Sick and Tired
by Harlequin Harley Quinn
Summary: Harry Potter is a normal high school student with enough on his shoulders: class, friends, peers, work, family. Now, on top of that, he's having nightmares of a magical, horrible battle. Is he going crazy? Or are these dreams trying to tell him something?
1. Nutters

_Thought I was gone, eh? Well, nope. I have returned after along break and I've brought with me a new story. I will take this time to warn you all: **updates may not be frequent as I often suffer from writer's block.** Okay... Quick summary: This is AU for the most part. This could really turn out to be a long story. I'm not sure just yet, but it's promising to be more than ten chapters, I think. Harry Potter is a regular high school kid with enough on his shoulders - class, friends, peers, work. Now, on top of that, he's having nightmares of a magical, horrible battle. Is he going crazy...? _

_**Future Warnings:** violence, possible swearing, homosexual relationships/scenes, abuse... um... all I can think of for now. If any of this should bother you **do not** flame me,_ just go read something else_. I **will** put warnings in the chapters which contain any of the aforementioned and **anything else** I think someone may have a problem with.** Again**, if this is offensive to you in any way, shape or form,_ just go find some story that doesn't offend you_. I do not need to hear of your disapproval of it. Thank you._

_**Disclaimer:** Sadly, don't own it. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling, who I am not. NO FINANCIAL GAIN FOR ME! Don't own any bands mentioned in this fic, either. Um... I'm sure more will be added to this as I go along..._

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**Chapter 1 - Nutters**

_Around them, the battle had come to a halt. Everyone had stopped and momentarily forgotten the carnage. All eyes were focused on the two figures standing in the middle of what had become a wide circle of death and destruction. The scent of death was on the wind. Two stood facing each other, but only one would walk away alive... This is what the entire wizarding world had been waiting for for near 17 years. By the end of this battle, their lives would be changed forever._

_Harry Potter raised his wand cautiously. This was it... This was the utlimate test. This would tell whether he was the saviour of the world, the Boy Who Lived, or if he was just a big failure. All of the hopes and dreams of his friends, the Order, everyone were resting on his young shoulders. He drew a deep breath. There was no way he could let them down. No way at all. The man in front of him had killed countless witches and wizards and muggles, had destroyed homes, families, futures. It had to end tonight!_

_Lord Voldemort eyed his rival. So, this was what Dumbledore sent him? A boy, not even a man yet? He could still smell the last lingerings of childhood clinging to Harry as they circled, preparing for their duel. He could see that innocent spark desperately clawing, trying to remain in the depths of those emerald eyes. He could see a reflection of himself, of what he used to be in the boy standing in front of him. Yes, they were not very different, he and Harry Potter. Aside from the fact that Harry would be no more than a cold corpse on the battlefield when this was finished. Too bad they could not have been allies, Voldemort thought in a slightly wistful manner. He could have brought Harry up in his image... What a pair they would have made... Alas, but Harry had to die._

_The two continued to walk in a slow circle. Neither attacked, trying to anticipate the other's first move. Rage boiled in Harry as he remember his parents, the Longbottoms, Sirius, everyone taken away from him, all of their deaths caused by Voldemort. He remembered his past encounters with this man - how he had barely escaped with his life and those of Ron and Hermione. Ron... Hermione... His eyes strayed briefly to where Molly Weasley was cradling her youngest son, detached from the battle, Ron barely conscious and holding his limp wand arm that was bleeding profously. It didn't matter, it was like he was still next to Harry. Even in his helplessness, he was standing beside his best mate. He would be with Harry to the end, no matter the outcome. Hermione was closer to him, her hands now limp around Draco Malfoy's throat. They, like the others on the scene, had paused in their combat to watch the ultimate battle. This was, afterall, what it all boiled down to. Harry wouldn't disappoint any of them. He wouldn't disappoint himself... After he won this final match, he could live a peaceful life. Peaceful... That word seemed foregin to him. Had he ever known a peaceful day in his life?_

_"CRUCIO!"_

_Harry barely had time to tuck and roll in order to aviod the curse flung at him. He'd allowed his attention to drift, and Voldemort had taken advantage of this. He was quickly on his feet again and without a moment's hesitation, he reacted with a curse of his own. It had begun now. Voldemort continued to fire curse after curse at him, and Harry barely managed to dodge them. Finally, he managed to send Voldemort's wand flying over the heads of the onlookers and off into the distance somewhere. In the process, the Dark Lord was sent flying back against a stone wall. He landed on the ground in a heap._

_It was here Harry made his greatest mistake. He approached Voldemort's limp form, wand raised, walking slowly. His instincts told him not to get any closer. They told him to stand far away and hex the hell out of this villian. But he didn't listen. There was something drawing him to the body, something he couldn't describe, and he couldn't deny it. Using the toe of his shoe, he started to turn Voldemort over._

_This had been what Voldemort had been waiting for. He launched himself at the Boy Who Lived, and managed to knock Harry's wand out of his hand. Before the shock wore off of the spectators, Voldemort's hands were around Harry's neck, gripping with all of his strength, determined to crush the boy's windpipe. He smiled in satisfaction as Harry's face started turning red. This wasn't exactly how he pictured killing Harry Potter. No, in fact, his vision had involved all kinds of delightful torture to the boy before finally ending his life. This would have to do, though. He had underestimated Harry. The boy could actually kill him, given the chance. Voldemort would end this now. He rather liked living._

_"Say hello to your mother for me, Harry," Voldemort hissed as he, with the aid of the adrenaline pumping through his body, managed to tighten his hold on the smooth neck in his hands._

_Harry's eyes rolled back in his head. No... This couldn't be... This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen... He was letting everyone down. Yet, he hadn't the stregth to lift his arms and defend himself against Voldemort. The battle was over... He'd lost... _

_Soon, his head stopped spinning. His lungs didn't burn anymore, nor did the scar on his forehead. Nothing hurt anymore. He didn't feel... anything. Then he saw himself, still in Voldemort's grasp. He looked peaceful and pale. His body was beginning to stop struggling. He was dying... 'NO! NO, STOP! DON'T GIVE UP!' he shouted at his body. 'YOU CAN'T LET HIM WIN!' He turned at the sound of sobs. Hermione, sitting on the ground, was crying... for him... because he, the last hope of the wizarding world, was dying. _

_'FIGHT BACK! PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!'_

_Voldemort's mouth opened. Harry knew what was coming... But, curiously, it wasn't the victorious cry Harry had expected that came from Voldemort's lips._

_"BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!"_

Harry jumped up in his bed, falling off the edge in the process. A dream... it had all been a bad dream... His hands went up about his neck. He could still feel those deathly-cold hands around his neck, cutting off his breath, crushing his whole neck. He shivered. These dreams were getting to be too much for him... He was beginning to think that he was going completely nutters.

He untangled his leg from the bedsheet then grabbed some clothes for the day. He needed a shower to wash away the cold sweat from his body. The bathroom was wide open this morning. This was a first. Harry was just three steps away, smiling gratefully. Usually, he couldn't get to the shower in the mornings because --

His train of thought was cut off as his younger sister darted past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. For a moment or two, he stood there and stared stupidly at the door. Every damn time... He headed back to his room with a resigned sigh. Chloe had once more beaten him to the bathroom, and he knew full well that his younger sister wouldn't be out in time for him to shower. He hoped he didn't stink too bad as he put on some of his dad's cologne just in case.

Dressed and ready to face another grueling day at high school, Harry hurried downstairs for breakfast. Lily Potter was sitting at the table, spooning food into the waiting mouth of seven-month-old Jason Alexander Potter. It was pea day, and the green mess was running down his chubby little baby face as he attempted to spit it out. Not that Harry could blame him, peas were disgusting. James Potter was standing at the island in the middle of the kitchen, reading a paper and sipping his coffee. He was dressed neatly in a casual suit, an apron over it. He smiled over the rim of his coffee cup as his oldest son grabbed a muffin and headed over to the table.

"More bad dreams, Harry," Lily asked, not adverting her eyes away from the task of feeding Jason.

"You heard me yelling again?"

"Mmhmm... Harry, would you like to talk about them?" James looked at his son worriedly. These dreams had been going on for nigh on a month now, and this was the third time Harry's shouting had alerted them. Still, Harry had refused to talk about them with either of his parents.

"No, Dad, I'm fine... I'm sure it's just the stress getting to me. What with deciding on colleges and keeping my grades up, and... well, school in general, really. I just need to relax. Trust me, everything's fine."

"Aside from the fact ickle Harrykins is going nutters."

Chole Potter came into the kitchen, smirking at Harry. She was dressed in her usual punker apparel: dark eyeliner, red hair with black high-lights put up in the latest fashion, sporting a Sex Pistols shirt and raggy blue jeans that were a few sizes too small. Her headphones were around her neck, blaring a My Chemical Romance song overly loud. Harry wanted to grab hold of her eyebrow piercing and... He wasn't one for violence, but his younger sister sure could bring him close to it.

"Chloe, don't say things like that about your brother," reprimanded Lily, still feeding Jason. "Harry is not going nutters, nor will he anytime soon. James, love, you'd better stop dallying or you'll be late."

"Right," James said. He made a face like he was hanging himself, causing Harry to chuckle and Chloe to roll her eyes, pretending to think her father uncool, but the action elicted a small smile from her nonetheless.

James kissed his wife, the baby, and his two older offspring before heading out the door to work. The life of an insurance agent wasn't the most dazzling or interesting, but it did put food on the table, and that James could handle.

A car horn beeped outside. Gathering his school things, Harry got to his feet.

"That'll be Ron and Hermione. I've got work later, Mum, so I won't be home 'til 5. Love you."

"Love you too."

Harry headed outside to his ride. Hermione was parked at the curb, Ginny in the passenger's side and Ron in the back. Ron reached over and opened the door for him, taking Harry's stuff then tossing it in the floorboard with his own school junk. Closing the door, Harry smiled at his friends as Hermione pulled out of the neighborhood and headed towards the school.

"What's the matter, Harry," Hermione asked from the front, her eyes making contact with his in the rear view mirror. "You look a bit peaky."

"I don't look peaky, do I?"

"No, she's right, you look peaky," piped Ginny.

"You do look a little peaky, mate," Ron put in.

"No, I'm fine. Promise."

"Are you sure? You do look a little --"

"Ron," Harry said. "If you tell me I look peaky once more, I'll bludgen you. All right?"

"Fine..."

Ron smiled at Harry. They had been friends since they were in elementary school. He knew that something was bothering Harry, but his stubborn friend wouldn't tell him until he was good and ready. That was fine with Ron, though. Harry was his best mate. He'd stand by Harry to the end, not matter the outcome. Besides, Harry was about the only person who didn't treat him like the little brother of any of his brothers. Bill, the star athelete. Charlie, the heartbreaker. Percy, the genius. Fred and George, the troublemakers. To Harry, he was Ron and that was enough for him. He didn't have to prove himself to Harry, he didn't have to strive to find something one of his brothers hadn't already accomplished to be special in Harry's eyes. This was just one of the many reasons they were best mates.

Ginny reached over and turned up the stero as a Flogging Molly song came on. Harry sighed, relaxing. Another day of school... He absolutely hated his high school, the student body, and especially a few of the teachers. The only good thing about school would be that he would be too busy to think about his nightmares. Besides, he had his friends. Just knowing they were there to listen to his problems was enough for Harry, even if he didn't feel comfortable talking about dreams of wizards and magic to them. They'd probably think he was nutters. Bloody hell, _he_ thought he was nutters. Maybe he really was going nutters... Oh well, no time to think of that now. The high school loomed threateningly in front of them.


	2. Battling The Ferret

_This story doesn't seem to be going so well, what with only two reviews... Oh well, I'm going to keep on trucking to see if it picks up any momentum - and besides, I really like this. So, I shall continue to write and post as long as my creative streak runs its course. Maybe others will jump on the bandwagon._

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own any bands or these characters (aside from Chloe and Jason), and this is not for financial gain. Don't sue or something... Remember: bad writing is not a crime. _

_**Warnings:** Same warnings apply, more to be added later. This is going to get really angsty, ladies and gentlemen... It's promising to be one of the darker fics I've written._

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**Chapter 2 - Battling the Ferret**

Harry walked down the halls of Arthur H. Evans High School with Ron at his side. Hermione had rushed off to the library, saying the new edition of Ancient Runes and What They Mean Weekly or something of the like, and Ginny had gone to meet with her friends before class. Harry absolutely hated this high school. His great-great-great-great-great-great-great maternal grandfather had founded it way back when, and it seemed like he was supposed to be the "Golden Boy" because of it. The entire maternal side of his family had attended and he was expected to uphold their shinning reputations.Not only that, but it seemed like all of the students - his present company, Hermione, the rest of the Weasleys, and a few others excluded - were complete moronic jerks. And speaking of which... Draco Malfoy was strutting straight for them.

Malfoy was not only the son of a successful business man, Lucius Malfoy, but also a jock to boot. He was captain of the rugby team, and quite muscular. He was coming at Harry, a dangerous glint in his pale grey eyes, his blonde hair slicked away from his face. Harry barely had time to react before Malfoy had him pinned up against the lockers. The taller boy's letterman jacket-clad forearm kept Harry held in place, resting against his throat. Oh, did he look pissed... His usually handsome face was pulled into a snarl, and Harry was strongly reminded of a ferret.

"Can I help you, Malfoy," he said, yet he already knew what had Draco's knickers in a knot today.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, Potter... You thought I wouldn't know it was you and your little friends that put those ferrets in my locker... Just watch yourself, Potter..."

He shoved Harry again for extra measure, then began to stalk off. Harry knew he should keep him mouth closed. He knew he should just let the whole thing go. But he just couldn't stop himself. He had to say it...

"We just thought we'd give you a nice family reunion, Malfoy. You know, the family resemblence is strong!"

Draco stopped in mid-step. Slowly, he turned around to face Harry. His face was slowly turning a furious red. Why had he opened his big mouth? Now he really was going to get it. Beside him, Ron was trying to stifle his snickers. Of course it'd be funny to Ron... They weren't about to call the undertaker for him... Malfoy came at him again and his fist caught Harry in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. He was doubled over. Malfoy smirked smugly over him.

"That'll teach you..."

"Oy, you great bloody ferret!"

Malfoy turned in time to see Ron's fist connecting with his eye. Malfoy swung back and pummled into Ron's jaw. Harry lunged at Malfoy. The brawl had started.

"FIGHT!" someone yelled, and it seemed like the entire student body was trying to cram into that one hallway. They all wanted to see who would kill whom. This was all terrible interesting to them.

Vice-principal McGonagall was shoving her way through the crowd. By the time she got to the source of the uproar, all three boys and Malfoy's lackies - Crabbe and Goyle - were nearly out of breath but still ready to be one another senseless. She sighed. There was no accounting for the levels of testostorone young men these days had. In her opinion, kids shouldn't be allowed to have hormones until they had the brain capacity to handle them. For some, that would mean never...

"ALL RIGHT, BREAK IT UP!"

With a strength surprising for her age, she managed to pry Harry and Draco apart. Ron was pummling on Crabbe while Goyle was trying to get him off. Taking the whistle around her neck between her lips, she blew hard. The shrill sound caused everyone within a mile radius to cover their ears and wince. The fight was stopped most effectively.

"Detention! Four weeks of it, and all five of you will be cleaning the front lawn every afternoon for the rest of the month!"

"But, Vice-principal--"

"Mr. Weasley, refrain from speaking or you will get further punishment! Now, everyone, to class! Anyone lingering will be handed detentions!"

The crowd dispersed, leaving Malfoy and his cronies glaring omiously at Harry and Ron. Any further exchange was halted with the stern clearing of McGonagall's throat. The boys gathered their things, heading to class.

Harry gingerly touched his bloody bottom lip. He could already pinpoint each and every spot on his body which would be nice and bruised come the next morning. At least he had gotten a few good hits in on Malfoy. Hermione, despite her lecture Ron and Harry knew was coming, would be proud and jealous. They all knew she wanted to give Malfoy what he had coming to him. He wasn't looking foward to going home this afternoon, wasn't looking foward to having his mum worrying over him. She'd always told him to avoid fights, but James had always told him to never let anyone walk all over him. Besides, it had been a sweet victory to land at least one blow to Malfoy's smug ferret face.

"Well, that was fun, eh?"

Ron was a smiling fool. Harry examined the huge red place on Ron's jaw. He knew it must be throbbing in pain, but he also knew that Ron was as estatic about having beat on Malfoy like had as he was. They may have been hurt, they might be in for an earful when their mothers heard about it, but for a little while, they were heros.

It seemed like an eternity that first period chemistry drug on. Harry and Ron hated the teacher, Professor Snape, and they were just horrible at the class in general. Snape was often fond of saying that chemistry was a delicate art, one that required paitence and skill to master, and it was apparent neither of them possed either of these traits. Of course brainy Hermione was passing the class, but only with a "B", much to her dismay.

As Snape prowled the class, looking for a mistake someone had made so he could jump on it, Harry let his mind wander to the nightmares he had been having. They had to mean something... Hadn't Hermione ranted to them about a book she had read that discussed the meaning of dreams or something like that? 'Well' Harry pondered, 'what do dreams of magic and me dying mean?'

"Means either you're finally wonky from this class, mate, or you should write a book. That could be a best-seller series, it could." Ron nodded and smiled beside him. Harry hadn't known he'd said that outloud. Though, it did feel good to finally say something to someone about the crazy dreams. He knew Ron wouldn't think the was crazy, even if he was.

"Yeah? You think?"

"Yeah. Maybe you should start keeping a diary about those dreams, you know? They could be important or something."

"You know, Ron, that kind of sounds like something Hermione would say."

Ron thought on this a minute, then made a face. "You're right. I think she's rubbing off on me. If I start spending my weekends in the library, be a chum and smack me. I actually wanted to pick up a book this morning. This can't be good..."

"Much like your assignment, Weasley," Snape sneered, suddenly behind them as if by magic. "Hmmm... There's another 'F' to add to your generous supplies. I think I can safely say you two will not be passing my class. Pity..."

Ron and Harry groaned. Their day seemed to just keep getting worse, though Snape was a terror to them every day. He didn't really have a reason to dislike Ron, aside from the fact he was a failure at chemistry and chums with Harry, but Harry he absolutely loathed. James had been in school with Snape, and, with some aid from Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, had done something - the doys weren't sure what, since no one discussed it - to Snape, thus earning the chemistry professor's eternal hatred. So, Harry, being James's son and his almost-complete double, had also earned said hatred. There seemed to be nothing anyone, Harry included, could do about it, so he had stopped trying. It just wasn't worth the effort.

Finally, their salvation from Snape the Horrid was at hand - the bell rang to dismiss from first period. Snape glared at them all as they practically flew out of the classroom. No one ever lingered in his class to discuss something with him, aside from the few favorites he had. That suited Snape just fine. He counted the seconds to the bell just the same as the students. 'Soon,' he remined himself. 'Soon you'll be rid of Potter and his fanclub for good. Just a few months until summer.' Summer couldn't come soon enough for any of them.


	3. Closet Sex

_I'm glad to see that you guys are enjoying this. Okay, I'm going to keep this short this morning, and then go work on the next chapter. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I kind of ran out of ideas for it. I've got responses to your reviews at the end. Anyway, here we go:_

_**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em, don't calim them, blah blah blah. All that good stuff. _

_**Warnings:**None for this chapter, just a little scene in the closet, but it's nothing big. (**Future** warnings include **but are not limited to** violence, possible swearing, homosexual relationships/scenes, abuse, family drama, possible rape, mention of self-mutilation, eating disorders, drugs. This could really turn out to be one of the darker fics I've written this far. Fair warning.)_

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**Chapter 3 - Closet Sex**

The day seemed to just drag along for Harry. It seemed as if he would never get to lunch. He had been nodding off all through Professor Binns's history lecture. The man was an utter bore, and it had been unfair to Harry to be in this class before lunch. It was torture, pure and simple. In this class, lunch always appeared to be an unattainable thing. It danced just out of his reach.

His head was slowly making a descent for his desk. The hard faux-wooden surface wouldn't be that hard for Harry to fall asleep on. In fact, it seemed almost welcoming. He was just about to close his eyes when something dinged him in the head. With a groan, Harry pulled the note open. He glared. It was a picture of him - a crude little stick drawing - and his head shut in a locker door. 'After school, Potty,' it read at the bottom. Harry didn't even bother turning around to give Malfoy the bird. He just balled the drawing up and tossed it out the open window when Professor Binns turned his back. When would Malfoy become more than an over-developed fetus?

"Now, tonight for homework, you're to read chapters 11, 12, and 13, then answer the assessment questions at the end," Professor Binns annouced in that dead-pan voice he had. The class let out a unified groan. Before they might protest further, though, the bell for the final lunch of the day rang and signaled their freedom from History.

Gratefully, Harry headed to lunch. His stomach was loudly rioting against him for the inadequate breakfast. School lunch may not have been the most mouth-watering thing in the world, but it would do to appease Harry's appeitite until he could get home to have a proper meal. His stomach rumbled again. Ugh... Detention this afternoon, and work... It would just be so much longer before he could get home, or so it seemed...

A hand reached out for him as he passed by the janitor's closet. It pulled him in and the door slammed, throwing him into darkness. A pair of full, soft lips pressed against his in hungry passion. A pair of hands were roaming his body. They stopped at his belt and nimble fingers started roughly pulling it off as his bottom lip was clamped between his assailant's teeth. Out of pure hormonal instinct, he felt himself growing hard. Inwardly, he sighed. Couldn't this have waited until he got food in his stomach...?

"Cho," he whispered into the dark. "Cho, wait... stop a minute..."

"Why," his girlfriend whispered back. She didn't stop.

"I... Urm..." Harry cast about for an excuse. Anything to get him out of this closet... This was really the last thing he wanted today. "We used the last condom yesterday, remember? I haven't been to the store yet."

Cho sighed. Her hands immediately left Harry's body. He felt like sighing as well - in relief - but held it in. He didn't want to hurt Cho's feelings. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it just wasn't a good day... Well, perphaps he didn't want to... Another wail from his stomach reminded him where he was suppsed to be.

"You'll go today, won't you? Right after school?" Her warm lips found that sensitive spot on Harry's neck and ghosted over it. "Promise?"

"Promise, Cho. Hey, I've got to dash. Lunch and all that..."

"All right," she simpered.

Harry opened the door. Light spilled in on Cho's asian face. She was a beautiful girl, and she knew it. She always carried herself with a certain pride, and that pride was thrown into everything she did. Harry supposed that was why he admired her - for he did admire her, if nothing else. Cho Chang aspired to be a movie star one day, and Harry had no doubt that she wouldn't have any trouble making it. He wondered what she saw in him when she could have her pick of any guy in the school. He kissed her cheek before he walked out, heading for lunch.

The line had died down by the time he managed to get into the lunch hall, so he didn't have to wait long to get his meal. Ron and Hermione had already seated themselves at their usual table, Ginny sitting across from Hermione, and former two seemed to be arguing over something. He smiled a little. It seemed like Ron and Hermione could never agree on anything, except their friendship with Harry and each other. And their extreme dislike of both Malfoy and Snape.

They waved him over, and he took his normal seat beside Ron. Harry began shoveling down his food as if he hadn't eaten anything in weeks. His extremely high metabolism caused him to be constantly hungry. Luckily, it also kept his weight gain at a minimum. Otherwise, he would have been as big as London Bridge.

"So, what kept you, Harry," Ginny asked, leaning over the table to look around her brother at Harry.

"Cho. She wanted to... ask me about something."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That girl... Harry, I thought you were going to break up with her. And now you're meeting her for closet sex?"

"I wasn't meeting her on purpose... She just kind of jumped me. And I'll get around to breaking up with her when I can. I just haven't found the right time yet... I don't want to hurt her feelings, you know."

His brunette friend just scoffed, then went back to her previous conversation with Ginny. Harry sighed to himself. Cho really was a great girl, but lately... it just seemed like they had no relationship anymore. She just wanted to have sex. All the time. And it didn't matter where they were. Cho had beed the first girl he had ever had sex with, and the first few times had been great. He once thought he loved her. Now, though, it just seemed like there was something missing between them. It had gotten monotonous. Harry had grown restless. He felt like there was something out there, something great, something just within his grasp that he was missing out on. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that it wasn't anything to do with Cho Chang, and he had to let her go. Her heart would heal quickly, she'd find someone else. Yes, everything would be all right.

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_**Author's Response:**_

_**emuerz:** Your guess is as good as mine, chica, but things do seem to have picked up. Thanks for sticking by me._

**_bosquito mosquito:_ **_Yay! I was so happy when I saw your name up there! Billy Madison dance Awww, you're so good for my ego. It was REALLY good to have another review from you. You rock! And I hope I might be able to change your mind about these types of fics. Heeheehee._

**_Dragon:_ **_Heeheehee, I can't tell you which one it is (if it's either of them). That would be cheating. Not to mention you'd really have to reason to come back and read anymore. Lmao, so I'm going to keep my lips sealed on this one. You'll have to wait to find out._

_**Abitchbeyondheryears:** I'm glad you didn't absolutely hate it. _

_**Jemma Blackwell:** Yay! You came back too! lotsa huggles You and Bosquito totally rule. Thanks for having faith in me heeheehee. Yeah, they might not, but I was thinking about Stone Henge and stuff. Hermione just seems the type that would be interested in that - witch or no. I kind of read her as one of those types who wants to know everything about everything. I'll be looking foward to more reviews from you. And everyone. Yeah. Thanks for sticking by me. _

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**By the way...**

_So, how does everyone feel about Jacko getting off?_


	4. Dead Clumsy

_Well, nothing's really changed since the last chapter. This is a little bit longer, I think, and kinda has a bit of back story. Yay back story! Okay, anyway, on with... stuff..._

_**Warnings: **Mention of drug usage, back story (hahahaha), and all that future crap._

_**Disclaimer:** Still don't own it... -snarfle- I own the so-far-nameless coffee shop though! Yay for me!_

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**Chapter 4 - Dead Clumsy**

"I'd like... uh... well... um..." The man stared up at the menu some more. "Can I have a few more minutes?"

"Sure..."

Harry sighed. He had been waiting five minutes already for the same man to make a decision. Honestly, how hard was it to choose what type of muffin and coffee you wanted? Three months ago, when Harry had applied here at this quaint little coffee shop, he had thought it would be an easy, stress-free job. Boy, had he been wrong. Now, he couldn't wait to get home. Quitting was absolutely out of the question. There were still three payments left to make on his car, a beautiful black convertable, and the closer it got to summer, less and less places where hiring. Besides, it wasn't really that bad in the coffee shop. He made decent money, and he got free coffee, and all he had to do was stand behind the counter. The only thing he hated about this job were the slow or jerk customers - well, that, and his evil, demon co-worker from the very depths of Hell: Marcus Flint. He had graduated last year, after turning over his title as rugby captain to Draco, and had since started working at the quaint little coffee shop to have extra coin for college - or, in other words, to feed his coke habit.

While his job had its downsides, it had a major upside. The owner of the shop was his Uncle Remus. Remus really wasn't his uncle, though - he was the life-partner of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. The two were like his uncles and he loved them as such. They were always around for every holiday, every birthday, for everything. Harry absolutely adored them both. Sirius, with his reckless smile and easy-going manner, and Remus who was kind and caring and comforting made a wonderfully happy pair. After he'd graduated high school, Sirius had gone on a motorcycle tour of England, then come home and opened a shop in town dedicated to his greatest love - aside from Remus: motorcycles. When the time came to settle down he bought a house a few miles away from where the Potters lived. Remus had moved in with him, then opened the coffee shop two years ago. They were living quite comfortably.

Five thirty rolled around, then six, then sixty fourty-five... It really didn't appear as if Marcus was going to show up that afternoon. 'Probably off in a coke house somewhere,' Harry thought. Marcus was the assisstant manager, and was supposed to lock up at night. Harry would just have to do it that night. Hopefully, Sirius would be working late that night. If not, then Harry would have to walk home. At least the coffee shop wasn't that far from his house... He knew his mother was going to be cross with him when he got in.

After seven, the teenage throng started thinning out, things started getting quiet. Closing time was offically eight thirty. 'Great...' He'd have to wait until eight to close... Just as the lonliness started creeping in, the bell on the door rang as someone entered. Ron came up to the counter and beamed at Harry.

"Stuck covering Flint's ass again, chum?"

"You know it."

Hermione and Ginny were coming in the door as well, with someone Harry hadn't seen in quite a few years. Nymphadora Tonks stepped into the coffee shop, pulling a black paperboy hat off, shaking her shoulder-length head of chocolate-colored hair. She smiled at Harry. Tonks, who was quite a few years older than them, had grown up in the same neighborhood with the group and had always been a good friend to them. After graduating high school, she went on vacation. The last time Harry had seen her, her hair was short and spikey and a violent purple. He'd almost forgotten her natural hair color. He liked how the brown locks framed her pale, heart-shaped face, though. She had changed quite a bit since she had left, but her style seemed to have stayed the same. She was sporting a "Mom, Dad... I'm Gaelic." t-shirt, ratty jeans and a pair of black boots.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

"Tonks!"

Tonks started towards him. Harry came around from behind the counter to hug his old friend. A wide smile lit up Harry's face as he opened his arms to his old friend. The distance between them was almost closed.

"Harry, look at y-- AHH!"

Harry wrapped his arms around Tonks before she could fall to the ground. She looked up at Harry and laughed. The others had to laugh as well. While walking towards her younger friend, Tonks somehow had managed to trip over her own two feet. She really was just the same old Tonks. Just like they remembered her.

"Still dead clumsy," she laughed again.

The group sat around talking for awhile in a booth. Tonks span tales of her trip to America, about people she met - guys in particular - and of the various jobs she had gotten fired from. Eventually, she finished and leaned her head on Ginny's shoulder as she listened to the other four fill her in on everything that had happened since she left. Harry sighed contentedly. It was just like old times. They had often gathered at some resturant and just sat around to talk.

Ron's watch beeped the hour, which had seemed to magically turn to nine with none of them noticing. The gang headed out to Hermione's car as Ron and Harry straighted up and locked the doors. They smiled at one another over the table as they put up the chairs. Tonks's homecoming was a welcome distraction from studying for the upcoming exams.

Tonks stood outside, leaning back on the hood her little silver sports car and taking a deep drag on a cigarette. She offered it to Ginny, who declined. Ginny was sitting in the passenger's seat. Hermione was standing with them, just hanging up her cellular phone.

"Ginny and I are going to run to the store for some ice cream," Tonks said as Ron and Harry came outside. "I'll have her home before midnight. That okay? Think your mum won't mind?"

"Nah, as long as it's you. Just be sure you have her back before midnight. And no booze. Or drugs. Or wild parties."

"Oh, Ron, give over." Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not twelve anymore, all right? I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself. And, besides, Tonks won't let anything bad happen to me. Right, Tonks?"

"Right." Tonks winked down at Ginny.

Ron grumbled a little, but didn't argue with his sister. It would have been useless if he had. Ginny had already climbed in the car, and soon Tonks was driving away. Harry smiled at his friend. Ron, like the rest of the Wealseys, had always been a little over-protective of his younger sister. Lately, though, she had seemed to develop a sharp little tongue and she wasn't beyond giving any of them a good dressing down when she thought they needed it. They were still deciding how to deal with her, and that allowed Ginny the time to go ahead with her desires before they might gather their wits enough to object.

"Well... I should be getting home. Mum will have kittens if I'm any later," Harry said. "Lucky thing you guys showed up. I would have had to walk home if Sirius wasn't down at the shop."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," said Ron, smiling his trademark lop-sided grin.

****

¥ £ ¥ £

Harry tossed and turned in his bed that night. Bedsheets were tangled around his long legs as he moved into another position. He groaned, whined, whimpered as the dream played on in his head. Once more, he was Harry Potter, The Golden Boy. Once more, he was locked in that fateful battle. Once more, he was losing, struggling in Voldemort's grasp. He was letting everyone down again.

"No... No, don't..." he whined. "Do something... please... n... no..."

The cold, pale hands wrapped around his throat again. His breath was cut off. Everything in his neck was collapsing under the strong hands around it. His eyes rolled back in his head and everything started going white. He couldn't go down like this. He couldn't go down _at all._ He was the hope of millions... He was the bloody BOY WHO LIVED! He was quickly becoming the Boy Who Was Strangled.

"NO!"

He bolted upright in his bed, swinging his fists, trying to hurt the demons that plagued him. Finally, he regained his senses. It had only been a nightmare. 'You can't hurt nightmares, Potter,' he thought to himself. 'Stupid, bloody git...' His hand reached up to his forehead where he felt a dull ache. A rememberance from the dream, where he'd had a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. It had hurt when Voldemort was near him. He idlly traced the pattern with his finger.

A noise outside his bedroom window caught his attention. Slowly, quietly, he climbed off of his bed then reached under it for the field hockey stick he kept under there. He advanced towards the window. It was a dark night outside his window. The thick trees kept the streetlight from lighting up his room. He couldn't see out his window until he got right up to it.

"Boo!"

Harry flew backwards on his butt with a yell. Chloe was standing outside the window on the first-floor roof, laughing at him. He glared at his younger sibling. She really was such a pain...

"Gotcha, ickle Harry, you big chicken."

"I am not," Harry said. "What are you doing out there, anyway? What time is it?"

"One in the morning. I heard you screaming. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, its --"

Before Harry could finish, they both heard their parents hurrying down the hall to the room. Chloe glared at him then hurried down the vines that grew on the side of the house. Harry looked at his parents when the rushed in.

"What is it, Harry? What's wrong?" James was holding his prized cricket bat in one hand. He looked around the room. Once he was certain there wasn't any immediate danger, he turned his attention back to his eldest son. Lily was at his side. They were both looking at him with those intense looks of worry he had been getting more and more of lately. He hated it. He hated having people worry about him.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just... those nightmares again." They both gave him skeptical looks. "I'm serious. I'm fine. Promise. I just saw an owl out there. I was kinda jumpy and it startled me. You can go back to bed."

"Oh, Harry..." Lily came to his side. She brushed a strand of his unruly hair from his face and looked into his eyes, hers the same emerald green as his own. She was so worried about him. Self-loathing kicked at the pit of his stomach for upsetting his parents so much. They were just nightmares... Stupid, dumb, crazy nightmares.

"Mum... It's fine. I promise."

"You know, Harry. Maybe you should go see someone if these nightmares keep up," James said.

"No! I don't need a shrink! I'm _not _crazy!"

"Harry, calm down..." His mother was being soothing, and that only made him more furious. "No one said that you're crazy. And I don't think you need a shrink. Here, honey, get into bed." She helped him up.

"But, Lily --"

"We'll talk about it later, James. Go check on Jason."

James looked as if he wanted to argue, but did as his wife said anyway. Lily helped Harry into bed, tucking him in just like she used to do when he was little. Harry felt so silly; he wasn't seven anymore. His mother leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Good-night, Harry."

She smiled at him before she left. He sighed. His parents wanted to send him to some crackpot shrink. They really did think he was crazy. Hell, maybe he was. He sighed again, then rolled over to try to catch a little more sleep before the sun came up.

* * *

_**Author's Response**_

_**bosquito mosquito: **Okay, we can call it a brain fart. Those are quite common for me. Yay! Glad you fixed the probelm. I think you're on my Favorite Authors list, but I'm not sure... I'll go check that. Yeah. I loved the Fluffy Pink Bunnies of Doom story. It was SUPERCOOL AWESOME. Yeah. Well, though you can't rememeber half of it, it's still awesome. Yeah, it's from "The Secrets That We Keep." I just loved that line, and had to use it again. You get to know where Harry works now! It's nothing really big, but I thought it was pretty awesome. I had a hard time with employer issues since if I did how I had originally planned it would conflict with future plotness, but I think I got it figured out pretty nicely. _

**_Dragon:_ **_Heeheehee, I'm sorry? I'm glad you thought it was good. It was pretty short, even for me. Cho "the total whore" Chang, huh? I can't say that I really hate her, though I understand your feelings. Cherry Valance from The Outsiders makes me feel like that. burning hatred for Cherry I can go ahead and assure you (and everyone else) that Harry and Cho **will not** be together for much longer. I've got better plans for our ickle Harrykins. And I also have plans for Hermione. But I'm done giving away plot points, so I'll just shut up now and let you find out what I mean in later chapters._

_**emuerz:** He was guilty. The whole world knows it. Sadly, there really wasn't any hard evidence, and the witnesses they had weren't very good at all. Too bad they can't find different witnesses and try him again. This is probably the one case where I disagree with Double Jeporady. Stupid laws... Maybe he'll slip up for something else and they'll get him._

_**orliobsessed:** Awesomeness of writing? Heeheehee, you're so funny. I'm glad you lurve it. I actually lurve it too. Yes, people are spootheads. Especially your sister. BIG spoothead. Hahahaha._

_**Jemma Blackwell:** Thank you. And Harry's really gonna be in for it later on in the story. much evil cackling Aww... Poor Harry has to suffer for my amusement... more evil cackling_


	5. The Cold

_Here's chapter five, and I'd like to take the time to say that **filler sucks.** Yes, it's horrible and stuffy... But it makes the story what it is, and I suppose it's not so horrible. It's hard to think up, that's for sure. And a tad boring. Yeah... All right, I think I'm done rambling now. Oh, and thanks to **bosquito mosquito** who, through the striving efforts of her OCD-incduced ... um... thing... has shown me that when I don't pay attention, I make mistakes... I'm such a loser... Thanks, bos! I always knew you were awesome! Heeheehee. Hmm... Maybe I should get a beta or something. Or actually _proof-read._ That might help._

_**Disclaimer:** You guessed it, I still don't own them. Oh well. A girl can dream, can't she?_

_**Warnings: **None really._

* * *

**Chapter 5 - The Cold**

Harry sat in the living room, beaming around at the gathering of family and friends. It was a calm Saturday morning. The sun was shinning, everyone was happy. These were the kind of days he lived for. He couldn't imagine life without these kinds of days. Life just wouldn't be worth it if there was no family, no friends, no happy to enjoy summer days with. No laughter? No joking? No lazy days? How horrible would life be without those things? He couldn't even begin to imagine. He didn't want to.

He went to get the door when the buzzer rang. No sooner than the door was opened, he was pulled into the strong and loving arms of his godfather, Sirius Black. More laughter - his, Sirius's, Remus's. That warm, fuzzy feeling in him felt so good. He returned Sirius's hug, then hugged Remus. They usually came around every weekend for dinner.

Lily and James were hosting a cook-out that Saturday. It was a bit crowded, but nice. Sirius and Remus moved out into the backyard to say their hellos to James, Lily and little Jason. Harry went over to Ron, who was helping Hermione with the veggie trays. He smiled at them both. 'Today is a good day,' he decided to himself.

Molly Weasley was bustling around after poor Tonks, cleaning up the mess in the young woman's clumsy wake. The three chuckled. Things had livened up when Tonks had returned, and she was definately keeping everyone busy. Especially poor Charlie, who - on returning for early break from college in Africa, where he was training to work with animals of the "large and exotic" persuasion - was desperately vying for her attention. Tonks was playing coy, though. It appeared that the second-eldest Weasley son would have his work cut out for him.

"This is a really nice party, Harry," Hermione said. "Your parents are really good hosts. It's great that we can all get together like this. Yup, great. Really, really great."

"What's wrong with you," asked Ron, giving her the once-over. "You're acting a little nutters..."

"Nothing's wrong! I'm fine... Promise. Just... I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Cramming for a test and all that."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks as Hermione craned her neck out the backdoor. She had never been good at "playing it cool." Their friend was looking for someone... And as if she'd heard their thoughts, she snapped at them.

"I am _not_ looking for anyone!"

"No one said you were, Hermy..."

They decided the best approach would be to back away slowly. If they did, they might not lose any limbs. There really was something going on with Hermione, but she wouldn't talk until she was ready. Until then, they would give her her space. Hermione was a stubborn girl. They wouldn't get anything from her until she was ready to volunteer it.

The two of them grabbed the veggie trays, then proceeded outside. The adults were mingling in the backyard around the grill, the food table, the patio. Sirius and James were horsing around near the grill just like the brothers they were to one another. Harry sat the tray down then looked at Ron with a smile. Ron smiled back. Everything was so wonderful that day... There was something in him, something deep down and hidden was telling him to cherish every minute of this. Something in him knew that soon, it was going to come to an end. The thought made him shudder.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Ron looked deep into those emerald eyes. Harry just shook his head.

"No... Just got a little chill."

His attention was pulled to a movement he saw out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see better. A black, hooded figure was standing under the weeping willow tree a few yards away. Red eyes glowed from under the hood. Cold ran through Harry's entire body. He knew that figure... It haunted his nightmares every night.. But how could he be there, in the daytime, when Harry was most certainly not dreaming? Slowly, the figure started raising his hand.

"No..." Harry whispered. He saw the wand becoming visible as the sleeve fell back. It was pointed right at his happy, smiling parents. His parents who were his life and so unaware of what was happening. "No... It can't be..."

"Harry? What's wrong," Ron asked. He was shaking Harry's shoulder, but the black-haired teen was paying him no mind. Harry's eyes were fixed solely on the person under the tree. Instinctively, his hand reached for the waistband of his jeans, groping for something... something... his wand, but it wasn't there. He reached for his back pockets. Emptyhanded again. Time was running short. He felt panic start rising in him.

"He's going to kill them..."

"Who, Harry? Who's going to kill who?"

Those red eyes met Harry's across the distance. Harry felt his breathing hitch. The cold in him grew and grew, spreading out through his whole body. The high-pitched laughter rang in his head. His forehead ached. The laughter grew louder. The cold was all-consuming.

Harry could feel the hands at his neck again. That familiar feeling of strangling returned, this time though, it wasn't a dream. His face constrewed in pain as his neck started collapsing. Breath became harder and harder to draw until it was impossible. Lungs started screaming for oxygen, but they wouldn't be satisfied. There was no oxygen for them. His windpipe was caving in. This was the end... again.

"Harry? HARRY!"

The world grew dark. Harry could feel himself falling, eternally falling. There was no ground anymore. There wasn't anything, but that shrill laughter and the cold. Harry vaguely wondered if what he was feeling was death...

_NO! _His mind rebelled. _NO! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD! GET UP, HARRY, YOU IDIOT BOY! GET UP NOW!_

_Can't, _Harry replied calmly to his raging mind. _I must be dead. Can't get up if I'm dead._

_**GET UP NOW!**_

His mind wouldn't be ignored. It pushed him, prodded him, shoved him towards a light. The light was warm. Slowly, he reached out for it, only to find that it was just out of his reach. That voice in his head kept urging him on towards that light. It just wouldn't let him alone until he got to that light. That light was all-important to it. Harry was tired, he wanted to rest, but it kept pushing him towards that light. He had to reach it at all costs.

Finally, the light grew. It exploded into a million little glowing orbs and danced around Harry most pleasently. His mind sighed, relieved it had done it's job. The little lights slowly started glowing brighter and brighter. They expanded into one big light again, and then swallowed him whole.

There were voices above him. They were so familiar... but he couldn't place them... His eyes opened to blurry vision. He reached around for his glasses, finally putting them on his face when he found them. His parents, Sirius, Remus, and Ron came into his immediate veiw. Inwardly, he groaned. They looked so worried for him. He could sense other people in the room. No doubt they were worried about him as well.

"Hey, Harry," his dad said, his tone one would use on a sickly child. "Are you feeling okay? You gave us all quite a turn."

"I'm fine. What happened?" His fuzzy mind was slowly putting all the pieces together. He remember the cold, and the laughter... Who had been laughing? Then it clicked. Voldemort. Voldemort had been there, at the cook-out, somehow strangling him. He bolted upright.

His father and Sirius pushed him back into a laying position on the couch. He struggled against them. They didn't know. They hadn't seen him. Harry had to stop him before bad things started happening.

"You need to rest, Harry," Sirius told him. "You passed out. Now, please rest!"

"No, I can't! He's here! I have to stop him!"

"Ron, take Harry upstairs to his room, please," pleaded Lily. Ron nodded. Very carefully, he draped his friend's arm over his shoulders, hoisted Harry up, and helped him up the stairs with Harry protesting the whole way. He laid the wriggling Harry down on his bed and sat with him. Harry sank into a stormy mood.

"What's wrong, mate?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Just a little dizzy." He turned away from Ron.

Ron got up to leave. He was worried about his friend, and hurt by Harry's show of indifference towards him. They had always been there for one another. Always. And now, when it seemed like Harry was starting to need him most, the green-eyed boy was pushing him away. It hurt him to see Harry distressed. He reached for the doorknob.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"... Stay with me? Please?"

"All right, Harry."

The red-head walked back to his friend. Harry scooted over to one edge of the bed, making room for Ron. He smiled up at his long-time friend as Ron sat down beside him. Ron put a hand on Harry's arm.

"Get some rest, Harry. I'll stay with you."

Harry closed his eyes with a smile. He could feel Ron's warmth beside him, and it was comforting. Slowly, he began to drift off to sleep. He wasn't afraid of sleep this time. With Ron by his side, he wasn't afraid of anything.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Author's Response**_

_**emuerz:** I'm here to please. _

_**bosquito mosquito:** Remus and Sirius are my absolute favorite ship of all time. They're just so perfect together. The last two Maurauders, finding comfort in one another... -drool- Yes, it's just so perfect. I'm glad you can agree with me. If Remus owned a coffee shop in my town, I'd be there every day just to drool over him. Coffee would be nice, but he'd be better. Hahaha, okay, I'm getting carried away, but I'm sure everyone else agrees with me. He's just too seczay. Sirius too. A petition is a good idea. Or you could bring it up to the council or something. It'll be all fun and involved and stuff. Lemme know how that one goes, okay? Um... I dunno, you'll just have to read and find out. I'm not going to say either way. Yeah, it would be pretty cool, wouldn't it? Lmao, okay, I won't name her Lynn. I had a different idea for the shrink. **Much** different idea. But that's also something else everyone will have to wait to find out about. Thank you for the help. I hate spelling errors... I've got slight OCD tendencies sometimes, so I know what it's like. Thankies so much! I know... I can't write long chapters... Gah, I suck so bad... Oh well, at least the ones I **do** write at a decent length are pretty good. Aww... No bonus points for me... I don't even know what Superfudge is... Damnit, now I feel like I'm missing something... Anywho, I'm going to end this now before it gets longer than the chapter. xx Heeheehee._


	6. Coveted

_Yay! I got the first really part of plot in there! Yeah, I was really looking foward to that, and I'm glad I could finally bring it up. Okay, that was a turning point. Things are going to pretty much start going downhill for poor Harry now. ...and possibly other people. That's undecided as of yet. Like I said, this is going to be really angsty and stuff. And not just for Harry if things start going the way at the keyboard that they're going in my head. One never knows. That doesn't mean that there isn't going to be something good here and there. I've got a really good idea planned, that my sister helped me with. Yay sissy! So, yes, anyway, I've done a lot of talking so far, so I'm just gping to be quiet now. There really isn't that much left to say anyway. Heeheehee!_

_**Disclaimer:** Nope. Still Harry Potter-less... though I wish I had the rights to Sirius and Remus, because then, they would be my little jungle stripper boys. Life would be soooo good then. _

_**Warnings: **Slight slash scene, nothing to really be squicked about. And a typical cliché scene. You'll see what I'm talking about when you get there. But the classics are always the best; they never get old. Yay classics! _

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Coveted**

It had been a few weeks since Harry's "episode" at the cook-out. It seemed like everyone around him were on pins and needles. They spoke cautiously to him. No one brought up the "episode" to him, perhaps for fear he would pitch a hissy tantrum on them as he had done to his parents. Harry felt justified in the argument, though. They had still been harboring the notion of seeking help for him, and he was _not_ crazy. He didn't need to listen to some Mr. Rogers-type asking him how butterflies or ink blots made him feel. Justified as he had been, or thought he had been, he was grounded for yelling at his parents in such a manner.

Being confined to his room was driving Harry completely stir crazy. He longed to be out with his friends... well, Ron, at least, since it seemed like Hermione was constantly busy with some thing or another. She had been acting strangely lately, and Harry would have looked into it, but no, he was banned to his room straight after work and school. Work had been cut down when Remus had gone into hyper maternal mode, which had occured after his "episode." He was completely disgusted that everyone was treating him like a lunatic or a man on his deathbed. Then again, it gave him a strange sense of _deja vu_. The whole thing felt familiar. He'd been in something similar to this situation before, but he just couldn't recall.

Presently, he was standing outside in the bright sunlight, trying to pull his thoughts together. Cho was clinging to his arm, nuzzling it with her cheek, making it very difficult for Harry to conentrate on what he knew he had to do. He had been putting off breaking up with Cho for some time now. He had to end it. She may have been the only person who didn't handle him like a particularly fragile piece of porceline, but he couldn't be with her anymore, not if he wanted to find what that restless feeling in him was seeking.

Three times before he'd been in this exact same position, and he had failed each time. There was just something about when Cho turned those big doe eyes on him that he lost all his nerve. After that, he would usually end up in a closet somewhere with her with lots of kissing and groping and hot teenage action. And he would feel like total dirt. The more he kept putting it off, the worse he felt. It had to be soon for the sake of his conscience.

"Cho, I need to talk to you..."

There she went again. Those eyes would be the death of him, he just knew it. She was such a fraglie girl underneath it all. He didn't want, for the world, to break her heart. He knew he was going to have to be cruel to be kind. To hurt her a little now would save her from even worse pain later on if he kept pretending that he loved her the way she loved him. But those eyes... They were so vulnerable, so pleading... She really did need someone to look after her.

"What is it, Harry? Is there something wrong?"

Harry sighed. It was useless. He was fighting a losing battle. When she looked at him like that, his heart just melted for her. He absolutely couldn't do it when she looked at him like that.

"No, Cho..." He smiled at her. "Nothing's wrong. Just wanted to tell you I won't be able to make the concert Saturday. I'm grounded."

"Oh," she pouted. Then she smiled. Slowly, her arms wrapped around his neck. He knew what was coming next. He knew, and was helpless to stop it. Those eyes were sucking him in. There was nothing for it but to just give into her. Cho Chang always got what she wanted.

_**¥ £ ¥ £**_

"Bloody hell, Harry! I can't believe your parents are making you miss the concert Saturday! You saved up for months for tickets!"

"I know, Ron."

They both sighed. The Flogging Molly concert... The whole gang had been looking foward to it for near eight months. And now, when it was just four days away, Harry was under lock and key at home in the evenings. He was crushed. The concert had been more important to him than the fancy racing bike he'd so coveted Christmas when he was seven. This concert was the highlight of his teenage life. People would be talking about it for months. He would be a social outcast... well, more so than he already was.

"Someone needs to talk some sense into your Mum and Dad. It just won't be the same without you... Those tickets are non-refundable, for crying out loud!"

"I know... Take lots of pictures for me? I'll give you some money for a t-shirt, too..." Ron nodded glumly.

The two boys were walking home together that afternoon. Hermione had given them a rushed excuse of having to stay after school for a project, an apology, and then fled from them. They suspected that there was something their friend was hiding from them. She had been acting very strange lately. They had a bigger problem to worry about, though: How would Harry go to the concert? Silence prevailed between them as they both pondered. Sneaking out would never work. James and Lily had found Chole's little escape route, and pulled the makeshift stairs from the side of the house. That had been their only hope. It seemed as if they were simply going to have to plead their case with the Potters.

That was easier said than done. For two hours, Harry aruged his point with his mother and father who, at first, absolutely refused to see things his way. Finally, they relented. Harry gave a whoop of triumph and hugged Ron tight. It was the best news he'd heard in a long time. He hugged both of his parents tight. He just couldn't thank them enough.

"Now, you two boys go upstairs," Lily said. "I'm sure you have a big test to study for. I'll bring up snacks in a jiff."

Harry and Ron ran upstairs to the former's room. The smiles couldn't be pulled from their faces.

"This is wicked," Ron said, happiness radiating from him. He tossed his bag aside and flopped backwards onto Harry's bed. Harry sat down beside him.

"I can't believe they gave in! This is... This is..."

"This is wicked!" Ron repeated. With an evil grin, he tackled Harry back onto the bed. The two wrestled around on Harry's bed. They were laughing, smiling, light-hearted. It was a beautiful scene.

Ron finally managed to get Harry pinned under him. They peered into each other's eyes deeply. Suddenly, the mood shifted. Harry's senses heighted and attuned to every aspect of Ron's body pressed against his. Breathing became harder. It stopped altogether as Ron reached down, carefully pushing a lock of Harry's hair from his face. In all the years that they had known each other, neither of them had ever felt those feelings for each other, those warm fuzzies in the pits of their stomachs or that unfamiliar twisting and tingle of their insides.

Time seemed to be grinding down to a slow pace. Ron was so close that his breath was fogging Harry's glasses. His heart was beating so loud he was sure Ron could hear it. He looked up at his friend, as if seeing him for the first time. He took in the pink lips, the pale skin, the freckles, the ginger-colored hair that fell all around him. Ron was so close that Harry could smell him. His nose picked up the smell of soap and clean clothes, deodorant and the smell of Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking, and a smell that was distinctly Ron in every way. It was intoxicating.

Harry's breathing hitched as Ron's face lowered to his. The red hair tickled his face. His heart was beating a tandem against his chest. Small chills were running up and down his spine, doing nothing to stop the twisting and tingling below his belt. Everything came to a halt as Ron's lips met his own, softly and unsure. There was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Harry's lips pressed back against Ron's. His hands reached up and found Ron's hips, pulling him down closer.

The kiss was quick to escalate. Tongues moved between their mouths. Harry's fingers were digging into Ron's hips as the two moved against each other. It was an amazing feeling. The concert no longer mattered to Harry; in fact, nothing mattered to Harry anymore. Ron was what he wanted. Ron was what he coveted. Ron was what he _needed._

Ron's trembling fingers found their way between them and brushed against Harry's stomach. Harry moaned deeply into Ron's mouth. He ground up hard against Ron. Pure and utter ecastcy... The movements of Harry's body urged Ron on.

Something clicked between them. Reality had come crashing back down. Harry opened his eyes to look at Ron, who was still atop him and frozen. Ron quickly jerked his hand out of Harry's pants as if he'd been burned. Harry blushed deeply.

"What are we doing," whispered Ron.

"I don't... I..."

Ron jumped up and began gathering his school stuff, leaving Harry panting on the bed. It had been so perfect, so wonderful... then reality had reared it's ugly head and made them both realize what they were doing. They had almost went at it like rabbits... Harry barely paid attention to the mumbled excuses Ron was spouting off as he was rushing towards the door. It was better to let him go. As it was, he wasn't even sure if Ron would ever speak to him again.

Long after Ron was gone, Harry still laid in the same spot. He didn't understand what he was feeling inside. Ron was his friend. His _best_ friend. What in the world had he been thinking? He was probably at home puking his guts out. Maybe he wouldn't ever talk to Harry again because he thought Harry was a great bloody fag. That thought depressed him deeply. The last thing he wanted was to lose Ron's friendship. Harry hoped against hope that Ron would talk to him again, though he couldn't blame him if he didn't - guys just didn't go around snogging their best friends, who were also guys.

There was a knock at his door. Lily stuck her head in. "I brought the snacks up, honey. Why did Ron leave in such a hurry?"

"He remembered his mum needed him home for something," Harry lied easily.

His mother didn't ask anymore questions. She put the snack tray down, kissed his head, then left him alone to his thoughts. She knew when to push and when to just let things lie. Harry felt a surge of love towards her for it. He really didn't want to have that conversation with her. When she had gone, Harry turned onto his side and curled up around a pillow. Slowly, he closed his eyes. He could have sworn he still felt Ron's hands on him, and the calming effect they had on him allowed him to drift into a dreamless sleep.

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_**Author's Response**_

_**emurez:** Heeheehee, it was kinda dramatic, wasn't it? _


	7. Concert Night Isn't Always a Happy Night

_I don't really have anything to say this time around, so on with the chapter!_

_**Disclaimer:** still applies, so you won't have to see it anymore. Yay!_

_**Warnings:** little more slashiness, and some angry Harry. _

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**Chapter 7 - Concert Night Isn't Always a Happy Night**

Saturday took its sweet time rolling around. In the four days prior to it, Harry had struggled through the nightmares twice more, failed a Chemistry test, forgotten his History essay, still not managed to break things off with Cho, gotten into another argument with his parents concerning him seeking help, and been avoided like the plague by Ron. All in all, he was quite glad that the concert night had finally rolled around. He was glad he would have some distraction from the confusing mess his life had become.

He wiped the fog away from the mirror as he looked into it. He studied his reflection. There was no answer for why things were getting out of control found in his reflection. Just Harry. He sighed and began dressing. He dreaded the car ride with Ron if that week had been any indication of his friend's behavior. Harry hated being ignored. Ron was being silly about the whole thing. After all, _he_ had been the one to kiss Harry. Not the other way around. Harry should have been the one offended and disgusted and doing the ignoring. _'You can't do that,' _his mind reasoned with him. _'You _enjoyed _it. You _loved _every bit of it. You fag...'_

He had been a jumbled, confused mess ever since that afternoon. Yes, he _had_ enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it very much. The whole thing had changed his perspective on his best friend, and now Ron was suddenly a new person in his eyes. He was something different, something wonderful, something... desireable. Harry could not deny these strong feelings for his red-headed friend. Still, he was a jumbled miss. What about all of his encounters with Cho, that he had enjoyed? None of it made sense.

"I'm gonna get through this," he whispered to his reflection, then left the bathroom and headed downstairs.

When Harry told his parents he was going and reached the front door, Hermione was already parked at the curb. He opened the door to come face to face with Ron. His friend looked at him, mouth hanging open with no words. Harry shivered. It had been the first time Ron had looked at him in days. He saw the little smoldering in Ron's brown eyes as they met his own. They stared at one another, and knew they were both remembering every detail about their encounter.

Neither one knew how long they stood there staring. It must have been too long, for Ginny leaned over Hermione and beeped on the horn impaitently. Ron's ears were flaming red to give testiment to his embarrassment.

"Let's get going," he muttered.

Harry followed him to the car and into the backseat. The girls smiled from the front seat. Harry smiled back, willing the butterflies in his stomach to die a quick death so that he could have peace. All of his sense were on hyperdrive, and he was painfully aware of Ron's presence beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ron's hand brushed his. Ron merely muttered "sorry" and scooted against the door on his side. Harry silently scolded himself for being such a git.

Ginny was the first person out of the car when they arrived. She, for all intents and purposes, dragged poor Hermione by the hand into the crowd at the ticket line, leaving the boys in her wake. Flogging Molly was Ginny's absolute favorite band. They trailed up to the ticket booth at a slightly slower pace than Ginny had chosen. Harry handed his ticket to the young man behind the counter, who winked flirtatiously at him. He blushed deeply, waiting for Ron, who was glaring daggers at the man. The look on the man's face clearer showed his relief that there was a pane of glass between himself and the grumpy redhead.

"Come on," growled Ron, going to find Ginny and Hermione. Harry tagged along behind him, feeling slightly angry. Ron had completely ignored him for the past few days. Then some random guy shows an interest in Harry and Ron gets all... jealous? Harry felt like throwing up his arms in resignation. People were too complicated for him to figure out.

The girls, or mostly Ginny, had muscled their way a mere five feet away from the stage when Harry and Ron caught up with them. Ginny was practically bouncing around in her excitement. The opening band was warming up on stage. The feeling of thousands of people packed into one place, all of them excited and anxious, was giving Harry a little buzz. He started loosening up, his body started swaying with the music. The feeling was contagious, and it felt so good.

The opening band, The Weird Sisters, finished their set and took a bow. The four cheered along with the rest of the crowd. The members of Flogging Molly filed on stage to a mass of screaming, shouting, jumping fans. Ginny was no exception to this. Ron held his ears as he moved away from his younger sister. The music started up, and all of Harry's cares faded away.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he moved. A flash of black hair caught his eyes. He froze in place. Cho was there, with some guy, and he had looked just in time to see the two of them kissing admist the mass of moving bodies. His insides went cold. Anger was bubbling low in his stomach, slowly creeping through him. He had just seen his girlfriend kissing Cedric Diggory, captain of the swim team and all around popular guy. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Ron was holding his shoulder, mouth close to his ear so Harry could hear him. His breath ghosted against Harry's skin, causing everything in his body to come alive and attune to Ron. He swallowed hard.

"What's wrong!"

"Cho's here," Harry said in Ron's ear. He was so close to Ron's soft skin... He wanted to kiss it, to pay homage to it with his tongue.

"I thought she wasn't coming!"

"Not with me, anyway!"

Harry pointed the pair out to Ron. For a second, he looked as if he wanted to go over and thrash the two, but he did not. He just turned sympathetic eyes on Harry. His hand gave Harry's shoulder a tight squeeze. Harry did not want to hear him say he was sorry about Cho.

He cut Ron off before he could start. "I... I wanna just ignore it, and dance, okay?"

Ron nodded at him. Harry stayed until before the last song. Giving an excuse to Hermione and money for some concert swag, Harry pushed his way out. He could hear Ron calling after him, but just kept going. He started walking faster when he heard Ron catching up to him. Soon, he was running towards Hermione's car.

"Harry, stop!"

"Leave me alone, Ron!"

"Harry, why won't you stop!"

Harry kept running. Ron sure had some nerve... Strangely, Harry was not angry at Cho. In fact, he was glad he finally had a good reason to break up with her. Other than that, he had no feeling about the whole thing. It was Ron he was upset with. Ron, who had given him the best snogging of his life then ignored him and now was playing the concerned game. For the first time in his life, he wished his friend would just go away and leave him alone.

Ron caught Harry by his arm, and wheeled him around. Harry tried to push Ron off but Ron would not be deterred. He pushed Harry back against the side of Hermione's car. Harry struggled against him. Ron pinned Harry between his body and the car. Harry went completely still.

"What's wrong with you, Harry," Ron panted, out of breath and feeling light-headed being able to feel every bit of Harry against himself.

"You," Harry shouted. "You're what's wrong with me, Ron! You've got me running in complete circles and I can't stand it anymore! One minute, you're kissing me and then the next, you're ignoring me. Then, you're all concerned about my feelings! Just leave me alone!"

He just stared at Harry in astonishment. Harry felt tears brimming in his eyes. Ron reached up as they spilled onto his cheeks and wiped them away with tender care. Harry continued to look into Ron's eyes, his own reflecting the confusion he was feeling. Ron's hand stroked his cheek. He began to relax. He was deep in those brown eyes now.

"It's okay," Ron reassured him in a whisper. He was moving slowly closer to Harry with his lips. Harry's heart kicked into overdrive, his eyes slid closed. He would not have believed that it was happening again if he did not feel Ron's breath moving over his face.

Ron's lips pushed against Harry's, tentative and soft and soothing. The feeling calmed Harry's screaming mind. He did not think anymore. He sucked in a breath of surprise as he felt a tongue sweeping at his bottom lip, and Ron took the opportunity to plunge into Harry's mouth. Harry rubbed against Ron's tongue with his own. Ron had his hands on Harry's hips, squeezing gently. Harry moaned at the sensation of it all. He arched closer to Ron's body.

Ron removed his mouth from Harry's. Harry groaned in disappointment. He was soon pacified, however, as Ron found his neck and began lapping over it. Harry moaned again as Ron found a particularlly sensitive spot. Ron latched on, alternating between licking and kissing then biting and sucking, and ground his hips against Harry's. Harry tangled his fingers in the flaming hair at the nape of Ron's neck and tugged lightly on it, gaining a groan of pleasure from his companion. It was undeniable that he wanted Ron right then, and Ron wanted him right back.

"Fuck..." he whispered in a voice that seemed too husky to be his own. "Ron... want you... bad..."

"Want you too, Harry," Ron said against his neck, his voice hot and heavy. "But we can't... We're in the middle of a parking lot."

"Don't care," Harry said. "Just fuck me already."

Instead of obliging his request, Ron backed away from Harry, running his hands through his hair and taking deep breaths. Harry laid, panting, back against Hermione's car still. He could feel the anger rising in him again. It was the second time Ron had gotten him turned on then called off. He glared at his friend.

"That's twice now, you know," he said, not bothering to keep his temper out of his voice. "Gonna try for three? Or are you going to just ignore me some more? Are you taking the mickey out of me, Ron? Is it all just a big game?"

"It's not like that, Harry."

"Oh, really? Then how is it, Ron? Huh?"

Ron turned to face him. He was trying to be calm, Harry could tell. He just did not care. He wanted to get a rise out of Ron. He wanted his friend to yell and scream at him. He needed to yell and scream back. He needed to vent his emotions, and Ron was just a good an outlet as any; he was, afterall, the cause of Harry's frustration the past few days.

"I'm just... confused, Harry. I'm confused by all this. I mean, one day you're my best mate, and then the next day, I'm snogging the life outta you and humping your leg. I don't know what's going on with me!"

"And you think I'm perfectly okay with it? That it's not weird at all for me? I had a _girlfriend, _Ron!"

"Fine piece of work she turned out to be."

"That's not the subject, here --"

"What's going on with you two?"

They turned at the sound of Hermione's voice. The two of them were looking at them with twin confused looks. Hermione handed Harry a t-shirt and a bag of band stuff and the leftover change. Harry looked over at Ron. His ears were turning red and he would not meet Harry's eyes. Harry glared at him.

"Nothing," Harry said.

"But --" Hermione started, but then fell quiet as Ginny placed a hand on her arm. The young redhead simply nodded in the negative, then climbed in the car. Hermione let the subject go, following Ginny's lead. Harry got into the backseat. He did not look at Ron as he slid in on the other side. The car ride home was quiet, save for Ginny giving her rendentition of the entire concert song for song. Hermione joined in at times, smiling over at Ginny. Harry just sat on his side to stew and let Ron do the same.

Hermione pulled to a stop at the curb in front of Harry's house. She and Ginny turned around to bid him goodnight, which he returned as politely as his temper would let him. Without a word to Ron, he got out and headed into his home. It was nearing on midnight, and his parents and Jason were sleeping, so he resisted the urge to start throwing things around once he reached his room.

He finally managed to calm down some hours later. He sat on his bed, looking at his cellular phone on his desk. He wanted to call Ron. Perhaps shout at him some more. But another part of him wanted to call Ron over. He needed to feel those lips on his again. He groaned and flopped onto his bed, pulling a pillow over his head. Ronald Weasley would be the death of him if things kept going the way they were...

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_**Author's Response**_

_**renrenfreak16:** Okay, I won't stop writing. Even if I'd like being called Fizgig. Heeheehee._


	8. Trip Down Memory Lane

_Yeah, I really had to do this chapter. Everyone must've guessed by now that my favorite ship is Sirius/Remus. I just figured it would do nicely in the story. And besides, you know you all wanna read it - especially the cowboy hat part. You'll see what I mean. This could possibly be the longest chapter I've ever written. Yay me! And loads and lots of thanks to my great sis and wonderful newly-acquired-beta. You're supercool awesome! I could never do it without you. Thanks so much._

_**Warnings:** Mention of homosexual relationships (i.e. - backstory )_

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**Chapter 8 - Trip Down Memory Lane**

Harry woke early that Sunday morning after tossing and turning all night long. Ron had been the subject of his dreams when Harry had slept enough to dream. They had been hot, searing dreams that still burned in his mind and had left him in a sticky mess. He sorted through his dressers for clean clothes. His phone lay on the desk where he had left it and had not called Ron during the night. He checked for missed calls. He wanted to see Ron's name on the screen. But Ron had not called him at all. Harry put the phone back down and, clothes in hand, walked down the hallway awkwardly in his soiled clothes towards the washroom.

Chloe, who slept until the late afternoon if left alone on the weekends, was snoring in her room, so Harry had the time to shower at his leisure. He peeled his clothes off and tossed them into the hamper to launder later, then turned on the tap. He placed his glasses on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He had never thought himself a movie star-handsome boy, but he was not entirely bad to look at. Did Ron just want something else? Sighing, he climbed into the shower.

The warm water washed over his body, drawing little mewls of pleasure from Harry. He just stood there, hands against the wall, letting the water run over his face and down his body his soothing rivulets. For Harry, warm showers were always almost orgasmic. Reluctantly, he moved from under the stream to soap his body. He wet then lathered his hair. All his worries rinsed away for the time being with the soap and shampoo.

Cold water started to become more and more prominent as it hit Harry. He turned the tap off, grabbed the towel he left on the wrack, and dried off quickly. He dressed, attempted to bring some order to his hair, then went back to his room for his phone. Downstairs, his parents were already awake. They were making breakfast, Jason in his highchair at the kitchen table, when Harry came into the kitchen.

"Going out with Ron and Hermione," James asked, pulling a waffle off the waffle iron.

"No," Harry answered. "I was actually heading over to see Sirius. I need to ask him about something."

"You and Ron haven't been spending much time together this past week," his mother observed. "Did you two have a tift?"

"No," Harry said again. "Can you please pass a waffle, Dad? One of the chocolate chip ones?"

James slid him a plate with two fluffy, golden waffles on it and sent the syrup soon after. Harry kissed his baby brother's forehead before sitting down with his breakfast. Syrup was drenched over the waffles after a square of butter. His mouth started watering even before he took his first bite. James's waffles were practically famous. There was usually a big crowd of people whenever James decided to cook waffles.

Lily sat down with her plate and orange juice. She peered at Harry over her laptop, on which she was working on her latest book, one discussing allegory figures and their significance in society in the present age. Harry raised his eyes to meet her matching emerald-green ones. She was trying to probe something from him.

"Nothing's wrong, Mom," he said, rather unconvincingly. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious! I can handle it."

"All right, dear. But if you need to talk, you know your father and I will be as open-minded and supportive as possible about the situation."

_'Great,'_ he thought. _'They think I'm on drugs or something.'_

Harry finished his breakfast in silence, then took his plate up to the sink and headed for the door. He pulled his shoes on. Outside, the day was beginning to grow hot and the sun was shinning merrily. It was a pleasant day for walking. He wished he had enough money for his car. He desperately needed advice from Sirius and Remus. Hopefully, they would know what was wrong with him where Ron was concerned. They were the only adults he would be comfortable talking to about his situation, and if they had no advice for him, he did not know what he would do.

He strolled along, trying to enjoy the day instead of worrying over Ron. He would have appreciated it if he were able to think of something other than the redhead for a few minutes. It did not even have to be long. Just long enough so he could have a moment's peace to think how lovely a flower was or something... Probably something less ponce-sounding than that.

He passed Sirius's motorbike on his way up the driveway, and the car was parked in front of the garage, so both of the men were home. He knocked on the door, waited, knocked again, waited, then rang the doorbell. He could only guess what they were doing.

When Remus answered the door, he wished he had called before coming. His godfather's lover was wearing a button down shirt, a tie, one black sock, and a smile. His hair was sticking up in every direction. Harry blushed and made sure to look only at Remus's face.

"Morning, Harry," Remus greeted him, his tone friendly.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Harry said.

"Oh, no, of course not. We were just getting up. Come on in." He ushered Harry inside. "Did you need something?"

"Um..." Well, there was no sense in backing out now. "I wanted to talk to you and Sirius about something. Is that all right?"

"Of course," Remus smiled down at him again. He sat Harry down in a squishy armchair, and went to retrive tea, crumpets and some pants. Harry twiddled his thumbs as he waited for Remus to return.

Harry looked around the living room. Remus and Sirius's house was not large by any means. No, neither of them made enough of an income for that. Sirius came from a rich family, who had disowned him when had confessed the true nature of his relationship with Remus. Remus's parents had died in a car accident when Remus was in high school. He had lived with an aunt until he could make his own way. He had always found it hard to get a job and keep it. People were prone to firing homosexuals. Now he was his own boss, and had a fairly nice income. The house may not have been large, but it had a homey quality about it that had always been welcoming to Harry. Little knicknacks and tasteful pictures decorated the living room.

Remus returned with the tea tray and wearing pants. Harry thanked him. He picked up a crumpted, smiled at Remus who sat on the sofa across the small coffee table from him, and was in the process of buttering it when Sirius decended the stairs and came into the living room. Harry nearly dropped everything in his hands.

Sirius was wearing nothing, save for a cowboy hat on his head. He smiled at Harry and picked up a crumpet for himself, seeming perfectly comfortable being in the buff in front of his godson. He sat down beside Remus on the couch. Harry looked up at the ceiling. He really wished he could have called before he came over. Remus gave Sirius a stern look.

"Sirius," he said. "Could you please pull on some trousers? I don't think Harry wants to see your... your... Go get dressed."

"Oh, Remy, he doesn't mind," Sirius protested, smiling over at Harry. Clearly, Sirius did not have any objections with being stark naked, nor did he see need to remedy that situation. "Do you, Harry?"

"I, erm... Uh..."

Harry tried desperately not to look at his godfather. For a man nearing his forties, Sirius could have shown up any twenty-something with his body. He was not overly muscular, nor overly defined; no, he was rather lithe with muscle enough to send any woman - or man, for that fact - into a drool. His skin was tanned to a delectable olive-tone. His torso was virtually free of hair, except for the thin line of black trailing down from his bellybutton that Harry was trying to ignore. He stared at the tattoo on Sirius's chest instead - a black pawprint - and a piercing, just below that, in Sirius's left nipple.

"_Please_ get dressed so Harry can stop blushing."

"Fine..."

Sirius flounced off to the laundry room. Remus glared after him, though Harry saw the smolerding little spark of desire lurking in the depths of his amber eyes. Harry, mortified as he was, chuckled a little. Remus and Sirius were quite a pair. He was sure they had had an enjoyable night.

His godfather soon returned in a pair of jeans that were not much better than him being nude and resumed his seat beside Remus, the hat still pulled down on his head rakishly. The latter smiled at his lover, who smiled back. Harry smiled at the pair of them. They were wonderful together.

"Thank you, rascal."

"No problem. So, Harry, what's brought you over?"

"I... um... Well, I wanted to know how you guys... you know... got together."

"Something on your mind," Remus asked.

"Yeah, I need some advice... But, can you tell me how you two realized you fancied each other?"

Remus examined his face a few moments longer. Harry held his breath. Those piercing amber eyes, which could flash so many different emotions, looked as if they could pull the information from Harry. Sirius was thickly buttering a crumpet.

"Well, as you know," Remus started, "your father and Sirius have been friends since grade school. Inseperable, those two were."

"James provided much more pleasant company than my family," Sirius said. "They were always picking at some thing I was doing wrong to 'shame the Black name' or some rot like that. Trust me, it was black far before I came along."

"Quite," said Remus, whom Harry knew had very much disliked Sirius's family. "I didn't come along until junior high. My father was a police officer, and got a promotion, which required a transfer from Liverpool. James and Sirius befriended be the year after I moved here."

"Partly because we found out he _wasn't_ the complete snore we thought he was," interjected Sirius.

"And partly because I became friends with Lily," added Remus. "James fancied her since grade school. She didn't care very much for him in those days. He was the star of the rugby team, and quite on the arrogant side. He and Sirius fancied themselves the cleverest in the school."

"With good reason."

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius, who smiled and kissed the former's cheek. Remus went on. "Well, I knew I was gay at age nine, and I had the time to cope with it. Sirius, though, is one of those people who can be with either sex and be just as happy, so it wasn't evident to him for some time."

"But, Remy, I'm only happy with you..." He leaned over to nibble at Remus's earlobe. Remus pushed him back over to his side of the couch.

"Down, boy. Not in front of impressionable youth. Yes, as I was saying, Sirius was quite the ladies man in school, the little hussie. Well, the first time something more than friendly happened between us was our second year in high school. I had spent the better part of two years talking to Lily on James's behalf. Finally, she gave in and agreed to go on a date with him. Your grandparents were out of town that weekend, and James didn't have a date with Lily until Sunday, so he invited us over that Saturday to celebrate." Sirius chuckled at the memory.

"Celebrating, in your father's book," said Sirius with a wide grin, "meant getting smashed. He broke into his father's liqour cabinet and took his second-best bottle of whiskey. Spent the night polishing the whole thing off. James passed out on the kitchen table, Peter spent the night puking everywhere -- "

"Peter," Harry asked, confused. Remus looked at Sirius as if he would have very much liked to stomp his foot. Sirius threw his lover a panicked look Harry did not miss.

"Peter was," Remus said smoothly in a voice that made it clear to Harry this Peter bloke was something he did not like talking about, "a little lad that used to tag along after your father and Sirius... He, um... Well, he met quite a tragic end our senior year in high school." Sirius snorted. That time, Remus did stomp his foot. "Best to forget about him, Harry, and don't bring him up in front of your parents. Sirius and I promised never to mention him again... Right... Go on, then, Sirius."

"Right..." Sirius was rubbing his foot. "Remus had so much to drink, he lay slumped in an armchair most of the night, staring around at everything and giggling. I managed to drag him up after James passed out, and convinced him to try to dance. He kept protesting that he was a horrible dancer, but I'd have none of it. Turns out, he _is _a horrible dancer."

"I'm not that bad," grumbled Remus.

"Rem... You're awful. You fell all over me."

"Well, I _was_ drunk, you know."

"Yes, and I'm sure your mum wanted to name you Grace, too, didn't she? Like I said, he fell all over me."

"... Sirius, you were already all over _me._ I don't think my tripping made much difference."

"Okay, fine. We were dancing to some old record James had found, and then Remus just kind of tripped and fell all over me. And I literally caught him with my lips. Well, one thing led to another, and soon I was trying to shove my tongue down his throat. Quite the pleasant experience, actually.

"I eventually realized what I was doing and uncermionously pushed Remus back into the armchair. After that, I ran to the liqour cabinet, grabbed some booze and got so pissed I passed out. Didn't speak to Remus for a week or so after that. Convinced myself he'd try to jump me again or something."

Harry's stomach sank a bit. Had that been what Ron had thought? Was that the reason he had been avoiding Harry after they had kissed? Harry groaned inwardly. It sounded very much like something Ron would do. Nevermind that Ron had been the one to kiss him first. He put his thoughts aside for a moment and went back to listening to Sirius speak.

"...finally realized what a dolt I was being. James and I had known that Remus was gay since he admitted to dating... that one fellow... Ugh... I can't even say it, it's so gross... You know who I'm talking about, Remus."

"No, I don't know who you're talking about," said Remus, glaring slightly at him. "I think you may mean Severus, but he doesn't really seem to fit the disgusted look on your face at all."

The biscuit Harry had been buttering fell to the floor as he stared incrediously at Remus. "You... and Snape...?"

"Well, that was a long time ago," Remus said. "Sirius has just never gotten over it."

"Remus... you were dating him while you kissed me."

"Yes, well... You and James just never liked him to begin with."

"So? He was a evil little bugger!"

"Sirius, he was _not_ evil. You and James were always picking on him. Of course he would be mad!"

"You and my dad picked on Snape," Harry asked. The puzzle pieces were finally coming together. Snape was holding a schoolyard grudge, and hated Sirius for taking his boyfriend from him.

"More like they embarrassed him in front of the whole school on mulitple occasions."

"He deserved it," Sirius sulked.

"Oh, go on with the story, will you?"

Sirius mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Snape lover" under his breath, then went on. "Well, Remus finally got tired of me avoiding him and cornered me in the hall between classes one day. We rowed a little bit, then I stopped and realized how bloody hot he looked when he was angry, and snogged him again."

"And then we just knew."

"We shagged in a janitor's cabinet," Sirius said. He was not as concerned about being tactful as Remus was. "And it was great. So we did it again. And the rest is history. He broke things off with Snivellus, we started dating, and we've been together ever since." He smiled over at Remus, who leaned closer to place a cherishing kiss on his lips. They looked at one another adoringly.

For a moment, he saw himself and Ron instead of his godfather and Remus. He smiled at the picture his mind created. He was beginning to realize that it would not be so bad to spend the rest of his life in Ron's arms. In fact, he thought it would most likely be quite enjoyable. Then he remembered why he had come to see Remus and Sirius.

"I need some advice," Harry said. The two looked at him, paitently waiting for him to confess his problem so they could offer their opinions. Harry swallowed, gathering his courage. "I... um... Well, Ron was over the other day... and we kind of... well, we were wrestling around, and then... He just kind of... kissed me..." He looked up at them. Their looks urged him on. "He didn't speak to me for awhile. Until last night, actually. When we went to the concert. Then... it happened again. And I... I think I want to... _you know_... With Ron." Harry watched their faces intently.

A smile was creeping onto Sirius's face. It got bigger and bigger, spread until it touched his eyes. He was looking as if he had won the lottery. He turned his face towards Remus, still smiling. Remus would not look at him.

"What," demanded Harry."

"Remus..."

"It's nothing, Harry," said Remus, still not looking at Sirius.

"Oh, Remy, dear..."

"What's he on about?"

"Sirius, love. You're treading on that little nerve of mine."

"But, Remus..." He was still smiling. Remus sighed, turning an exhausted expression on Harry.

"He said something like this would happen two weeks ago. Said you two were getting a little more cozy lately. Now, I owe him a pair of black leather chaps..."

Sirius whooped, and jumped up. He started doing a kind of war dance, accompined by a few more whoops. Remus was rubbing at his temple. Harry could see the small smile on his face, though. He had to smile in spite of himself at Sirius's antics.

"Well, Harry," Remus said over Sirius's happy noises, "Ron is a nice boy."

"I know. But... I'm just so confused. I have... well, I mean, I _had_ a girlfriend, you see." A twinge of anger tugged at his stomach when thought about Cho, but he pushed it aside. It was insignificant right now. "And, well, she and I... You know what it's like being a teenager. Then this... I just don't know about anything anymore. Ron's the only guy I've ever felt like this for. Am I gay? Or... I just don't know."

"Harry," Sirius said, perching on the arm of Harry's chair, his dance of glee momentarily forgotten. "You don't have to be gay to fancy guys, or want to futter them. Trust me. And there's nothing wrong with it. You're a teenager. You're supposed to have a little confusion about these things. Give them a bit of thought, and let Ron think too, before you two go and bugger each other. It could just be a fleeting crush. Or it could be something more. If you two have genuine feelings for one another, I say have at it. I can even give you a few tips on the subject."

"Sirius," Remus said, his voice slightly stern. "I don't think James would appreciate that very much."

"What are you talking about, Remus? James joined us once or twice." Harry's mouth fell open at this.

"What!"

Remus glared at Sirius again, who merely shrugged. "We were teenagers. We were always doing something just to see how we liked it. He decided it was a good bit of fun, but it just wasn't for him. He liked boobs too much, I suppose. It didn't change anything, though, as you can see. He was happy we found each other. Your father was quite good in the sack. Not as switched on as Remus, but not bad."

"Sirius, I really didn't need to know that... "

"Right, sorry. I tend to overshare. But here." Sirius went to the bookshelf and pulled out a little book with a black leather binding. "In case you decide you want to persue this thing with Ron, no sense in the pair of you stumbling down that path blindly. If not, then at least you have something interesting to read." He pressed the book into Harry's hands.

"Thanks, guys," Harry said, still holding the book as he stood. He hugged them both and left.

He was not entirely sure if he wanted to know what the book was, considering it had been Sirius who gave it to him and the conversation they had been having prior to reciving the book. He opened the front cover of the book as he walked down the driveway. The sight of two men quite nude and entangled in an intimate fashion greeted Harry's eyes. He snapped the book closed again, blushing scarlet and looking around as if there were someone who would know what he had just seen. Sighing, he slipped the book into his back pocket. The last thing he needed was to be walking down the road with a homosexual sex guide in his hands and have someone stop him.

Harry sighed again as he checked the mailbox. He had work in a few hours. He went to his room and changed into his work shirt, leaving the three buttons undone. His apron was downstairs in the wash. As he reached for his doorknob, he froze in place. A chilling feeling ran through him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It felt like someone was watching him from outside his open window. He turned and walked slowly towards it.

That familiar cloaked figure was standing across the street, staring up at him. He could just make out the malicious smile on Lord Voldemort's face. Harry started backing away from the window as the wizard began raising his wand. Panic and fear began welling in him. He tried to back away further.

His rubbish bin was knocked aside in his haste. He was in too much of a state to remember where everything was to keep from stumbling over it. He fell as his trainers were caught in a pair of jeans he'd left lying around. Harry hurried to his feet again, his eyes still locked with Voldemort's. He broke the stare and turned, starting to flee from the room.

The leg to his desk chair stopped his flight. His face turned to meet the rest of his body just in time for his head to crack itself on the desk. Searing pain, made worse by the pain always accompined by the sight of Voldemort, shot through his head. He blacked out.


	9. In His Arms

_Once more, thanks to my awesome beta. Without her, this chapter wouldn't be half as good!  
Feedback is always nice; questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome._

_**Warnings:** More slash! And drug mention. And more slash! _

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**Chapter 9 - In His Arms**

Harry woke up some time later in his bed with a throbbing headache. He groaned. He remembered busting his head on the desk. There was no doubt that his parents had found him. Once more, he was going to have to listen to suggestions that he needed help. Half-heartedly, he wondered if he could make a break for it out the window before one of them came back.

His father came in before he could act on his impulse. James smiled at his son. "Feeling better," he asked.

"Just a bit of a headache," Harry replied.

"I'd imagine so," James said. "Cracked your head pretty hard. You must've caught the desk on your way down, then the edge of those little glass stairs that were in your floor."

He looked over at his desk. Lying beside it were the glass stairs in question. They were a decorative paperweight Hermione had bought him a few years prior. There had been some meaning to them (Harry was sure it was something about completing tasks on time, knowing Hermione) but he had forgotten what it was. On accident, he had sent the stairs toppling over onto the floor a week or so back and had forgotten they were there. Now, he wished he had picked them up. His head felt like it was split right down the middle.

"I tripped over my jeans," Harry said before James could even ask. His temper started to flare as his father eyed him with a skeptical look. "I was in a hurry, I forgot my apron downstairs, and my foot got caught in the leg of those jeans on the floor and I tripped. You can stop looking at me like I'm crazy."

"I'm not looking at you like you're crazy, Harry," James said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside his son. "Your mother and I are just concerned about you. You keep having those nightmares, and this is the second time you've blacked out."

"I didn't blackout," Harry argued. "I told you, I tripped."

"Harry... Your mother and I just want to know that you're all right. Now, there's this great doctor in London, he's really experienced with dream psychosis and things like that. Maybe you should -- "

"No," shouted Harry, cutting James off. "No, I'm not going to see a doctor! I'm not crazy!"

"Stop shouting, Harry," his father said in a stern voice. "We've already told you that we don't think you're crazy. It just wouldn't hurt to know what these kinds of things mean."

"I'm not going," Harry said, determined.

Lily came in before James could argue wtih his son. She sat down beside James on Harry's bed, stroking her son's hair. Harry knew she would be all for him going to the crazy doctor. They probably had a padded room booked for him. He glared at his parents.

"Harry, we'll make a deal with you," she said, her voice soft. She was playing the diplomat. "We won't make you go to the doctor now. But," she went on before he could say anything else, "if you keep fainting all over the place, then we will make you. Does that sound fair?"

_'No,' _raged Harry's indignant mind. But he replied in the affirmaitve. His good sense told him that it would be the only deal his parents would make with him. He continued to stare at his parents with angry eyes as they smiled at him.

"What time is it," he asked. "I've gotta work today."

"I don't think that's a good idea," his mother said.

"Well, I have to work. I'm not going to go fainting in the foam, okay?" He looked up at his alarm clock. "Shit," he shouted, not listening to his parents yelling at him for his language, getting out of the bed, shoes in hand and running downstairs for his apron. He was two hours late. Running out the door, he pulled on his shoes and moved as fast as he could to the coffee shop.

Marcus was behind the counter taking and filling orders when Harry rushed in. He smiled at Harry. He wished Marcus would leave. He was not too fond of him. In fact, Marcus had a tendency to make Harry sick to his stomach. He would come to work burnt out some days, and drag ass around the shop until he went to the back to pass out. Other days, he would show up positively buzzing. He had a tendency to get a little handsy on those days. The quality of the days work was affected by Marcus's state - if he even bothered to show up at all. If only Remus could have hired someone else...

"Having a busy day," Marcus asked Harry, still smiling, as Harry came around the counter. Harry sighed as he pulled on his apron. Marcus was floating in the stratosphere.

"Yeah," Harry answered, going up to the counter to take orders as the customers came in. Every nerve in him was standing on end, monitoring Marcus's every move. Today was not the day for Marcus to cop a feel of _any _of Harry's goodies.

Harry resisted the urge to jump everytime he felt Marcus walk past, or when Marcus accidentally brushed against him, or when their hands accidentally touched when Harry was taking the cups from him. He was completely on edge. Marcus happened to sneeze and Harry threw the pastry he was handing to a customer into the air. It landed cream-side down in another customer's coffee cup, splashing coffee all over her and the table. Harry turned a deep crimson and hurried to clean up the mess.

"Why so jumpy, mate," Marcus asked as Harry's nervous state continued throughout the day.

"No reason," Harry said. He was about to have a breakdown.

It seemed to Harry that throughout the day, Marcus moved closer and closer into his personal space. When he would move to one side of the counter to another, he would squeeze past close to Harry's back while Harry stood at the register. Harry's breathing would stop when he would do that. The space behind the counter was a little close, but Flint was exaggerating it. Marcus would lean over Harry's shoulder to check something, every time closer and closer against Harry's back. Harry tried to keep as close to the register as he could, but Flint would just come closer still.

Mid-afternoon, the customers started to trickle down until there were only three or so in the shop, and it did not look as if anymore were coming. Harry was restocking the paper cup dispenser when the bell on the door rang. He made his way past Flint, who was taking up most of the door way and forced him to turn sideways so he could squeeze out, his bottom lightly brushing against Flint's hips, and tried not to jump right out of his skin. Ron was standing at the counter, hands shoved in his pockets, staring down at the clean wooden surface. Harry's heart beat a little faster.

"Can I get you something," Harry asked, restraining himself from leaping across the counter at Ron and snogging the other boy senseless, regardless of the presence of others.

"A good kick in the pants," Ron suggested. He looked up at Harry from under those ginger lashes, then, seeing Harry was not horribly angry with him, brought his eyes up to meet Harry's. "I'm a git. I can understand if you never want to see me again. I just... came to apologize for being so bloody stupid." He looked down at his shoes, addressing them instead of Harry's face. "There was more, I had it planned and everything, but I forgot it all as soon as I came in the door. I guess I'll just go before I muddle things up again."

"Ron," said Harry, his voice a whisper. Ron looked up at him again. "I forgave you the moment you walked in that door..."

"Really?" Ron was trying to keep his voice from sounding too hopeful, but Harry caught the glimmer of it shinning in his eyes. He nodded at Ron. Ron gave him a relieved smile in return.

The truly beautiful moment that was passing between them skidding to a crashing halt as Harry went completely rigid. Marcus Flint's hand was gliding over Harry's buttocks. It was moving slowly in feather-light caresses. Harry did not know what he should do, so he just stood there as his person was violated, rigid and silent. Ron was looking at him confused. Flint was playing it off like he was checking the dials on the coffee machines, his back to Harry.

Marcus soon seemed to tire of just examining the good. His hand closed around one of Harry's buttocks and squeezed, none too gently. Harry yelped. Ron had realized what was happening by then. He leaped across the counter at Marcus. His attack was wholly unexpected by the other and Marcus went crashing, face first, into the wall. Harry managed to get between them and push Ron back around the counter, keeping a good hold on him before Marcus could retaliate.

"Keep your bloody hands off of him," Ron shouted at Marcus. The few customers in the shop had their eyes glued to the scene.

"And who are you to boss me?" Flint had his hand to his nose. Blood was running down at an alarming rate. Harry supposed that Marcus should have been used to his nose gushing blood all over him.

"He's mine," growled Ron, looking as if he would rip Marcus limb from limb if he could only get to him. It did not seem to bother Ron at all that Marcus was twice as wide as he was or that he had nearly a full head over Ron. Harry was having a hard time pushing the redhead towards the door.

"I'm taking off, Flint. Clock me out."

Harry did not wait for Marcus to answer him. He shoved Ron outside and did not stop pushing him until they got two full blocks away. Ron was still seething in fury. He could not quite make out all of the various insults Ron was muttering under his breath. Harry grabbed Ron's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Ron did not pull away. Quite the contrary, he gave Harry's hand a little squeeze.

"Feeling better," Harry asked him.

"Yeah... I don't like him groping you like that... If I ever catch him touching you again, so help me, I'll rip his hands off and cram them up his ass."

Why? Because I'm your's?"

"Damn right," Ron said, his voice still a low growl. Harry smiled up at Ron, who was slightly taller than he was. He raised an eyebrow when Ron peered back. "That is, if you want to be, you know."

"Hmmm," said Harry, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll have to think about it..."

Ron smiled down at Harry. He pulled him up against him and kissed Harry. He leaned back against the brick wall of the alley they had ducked into, Harry melting against him, exploring Harry's mouth at his ease. Harry made little passionate noises in the back of his throat. Ron groaned as the noises reached him. He had never heard anything more exciting in his life, aside from when Harry had demanded that Ron fuck him in the middle of the concert parking lot.

He pulled back, hands holding Harry's face lovingly, exploring every detail of the other's face. His thumb ran over Harry's pouty, kiss-swollen bottom lip. He watched as Harry's lips parted slightly, as his tongue slipped out to tease at Ron's thumb. His eyes traveled up to meet Harry's. He could see the intense emotion reflected in the emerald eyes. The emotion was for him. Gently, he pushed the raven-colored fringe away from Harry's forehead, looking at the white bandage there.

"What happened," Ron asked. "You didn't... Did you..."

"I just fell..." Harry looked down. He could not look Ron in the eyes and lie to him. "It's nothing. Caught the desk and a paperweight. It might scar, I guess. I haven't seen it yet, dunno how bad it is."

Ron kissed Harry again. Harry tucked his body against Ron. He sighed contentedly as Ron swept over the backs of his teeth. There was just something so right about him being in Ron's arms. Nothing could worry him at all while he was close to Ron. Nothing could touch him while he was lost in his arms. He could not have been happier as Ron walked him home, their hands intertwined.


	10. Safe and Secure

_**Warnings:** slight homosexualness, fluffy content, and a dead-sexy Draco (didn't want anyone to have a heartattack or something). _

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**Chapter 10 - Safe and Secure**

Harry confronted Cho that Monday when he saw her at school. He told her that he had seen her with Diggory. She did not even try to deny it. To her credit, she was forthcoming with the truth, and Harry could not have stayed mad with her if he had been in the first place. She managed to hold her tears until the end where he told her that they were finished. Then the dams broke loose. Harry stood there awkwardly as he always had. One would think with as much as she had cried all over him that he would have known what to do to comfort her, but he still had no idea. He patted her shoulder slightly hesitantly.

Cho tried apologizing. She tried bedroom eyes. She tried guiliting him into taking her back. She tried everything short of begging. Cho Chang did not beg for anything. She was far too proud for that. In the end, her temper flared at Harry, who yelled back and she ran off to find Diggory who would soothe her rumpled feathers and coddle her. Harry did not have the time, energy, or will to put up with her nonsense. He sought out Ron, who smiled at him and everything was all right.

Exams came and went. Harry knew he would have to repeat Chemistry next year, but it did not bother him. He had a good feeling that he had passed everything else. Chemistry would not be so bad, and he would have Ron for company. He and Ron had agreed to take things slow. They could admit now that they had more than friendly feelings for one another. They would have the occasional snog session here and there. Things had not progressed beyond that. Neither of them were bothered, though. Harry was content to have Ron to chase away his problems, and Ron was content to help. They agreed that they had all the time in the world to get into everything else, and to try the things in Sirius's book. They often spent their afternoons looking at it, which would lead to more snogging.

Harry had not said anything to his parents about the change in his relationship with Ron, though he suspected they already knew. Sirius and Remus had not said anything to them. His parents were just overly perceptive, and it seemed like they had all of their attention focused on him. He wished they would get off his back and onto Chloe's. She was the one sneaking out, acting strange, getting thinner and thinner, and mouthing off at every turn. He supposed they were waiting for him to have another fit.

Strangely enough, since he and Ron had become closer, his nightmares had decreased, and he had not had a fit since the day he fell in his room. The cut he had recieved had been in the shape of a ligtening bolt, and had started to scar over. Harry groaned every time he saw it. There was something familiar and unwelcome about the injury. He felt like it was something he had been missing but had not missed.

Summer was soon upon them. Before they knew it, May had turned into June, which in turn had become July. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in front of an ice cream shop while they waited for Ginny to finish putting in her job application at the video store across the street. Harry was lapping happily at a vanilla cone. The cream slipped down his throat in a cold line. He smiled, making little happy noises. He absolutely loved ice cream.

Harry knew that Ron was watching him. He could feel the other's eyes on him. Harry opened his eyes slightly, peering at Ron through his ebony lashes. Sure enough, Ron was watching as his tongue devoured the white cream. He smirked a bit. Slowly this time, his tongue ran up the side of his scoop, drawing out the whole process, until he got to the very top. His pink lips closed delicately around the swirl at the top. Harry pulled away from the ice cream, a smile of satisfaction on his lips. His tongue ran over his lips to collect the ice cream there and he smiled, adding a little moan of pleasure for the sake of his show. He looked over at Ron, who had been in the middle of saying something to Hermione, but was now watching Harry with a slack mouth and smoldering eyes. Harry smiled at him. He lowered his eyes coyly.

Hermione cleared her throat. Ron looked down at the table. His ears burned deep scarlet. Harry simply smiled at Hermione.

"Why didn't you get any ice cream, Hermione," he asked, acting as if he had not just made passionate mouth-love to his ice cream. "You love that tutti-frutti rubbish they serve here. I think this is the first time we've been here that you actually haven't had anything."

"I'm not in an ice cream mood," Hermione said on a shrug. For the past two days, she had been very picky about what she ate. She had also began talking less and less, and when she did speak, it was in an odd voice, as if her tongue was a bit on the swollen side. Then, as she said something to Ron, Harry saw it.

If he had not been looking for it, he would have completely missed it. He was sure Hermione wanted everyone to miss it. It was clear, afterall. It all fell into place for Harry. Chloe had had the same food restrictions when she had gotten her's done. Now, Chole was believeable. She loved body piercings. But _Hermione?_ Still, he was sure of what he had seen.

"When'd you get your tongue pierced, Hermione," Harry asked.

"I... well..." Hermione gave a flustered huff. "If you must know, I got it done a few days before the concert. Why are you looking at me like your eyes are going to pop out of your head, Ron?"

"It's just... You! You got your tongue pierced... _You! Hermione! _That's it... You're just not Hermione... Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Ron continued to look at her as though she had just sprouted a third arm from her forehead and had told him she was marrying Bigfoot. Harry laughed at the pair of them. Everyone had always thought Ron and Hermione would have ended up a couple and became another Mr. and Mrs. Wealsey, Harry included. But now he could see that they would only be friends and that was what they both wanted. Ron put a hand on Harry's knee, coaxing a smile from Harry. He knew that there was no other person in the world for him but Ron. He would not have had it any other way.

"You two look rather happy," she said. "I'm assuming you two are good for one another?"

Harry smiled over at Ron, who returned the smile. "Yeah," said Ron. "We're pretty happy. I didn't see it coming at all, you know. I always thought you'd be in my life, Harry, but I didn't know it'd be like this."

"Me either. I dunno... It just kind of seems natural, doesn't it?"

"I swear," Hermione sighed. "You two... You don't notice something until it slaps you in the face, do you? I mean, really! It was pretty obvious... Ginny and I have known for ages."

"Talk about blind," Ginny said, coming to stand beside Hermione. "Fred and George noticed it first. You two just compliment each other so well."

Ron pulled a look of pure dread at his sister's words. "Great... are they going to take the mickey out of me about this?"

"Doubtful," said Ginny. "They had bets going on how long it would take you two to get your heads out of each other's asses. Actually, I don't think they'll blame you. George had a thing for Harry there for a bit. Remember that, Harry?"

Harry remembered it all right. It had been a year ago, while the twins were still in school. George had started spending more and more time with Harry. They ate lunch together, George walked Harry to class, and they even met for lunch a few times. George, who absolutely did not drink coffee under any circumstances, had taken to hanging out in the coffee shop and waiting for Harry to get off work. They had passed the time with pleasant conversation. After work, George would drive Harry home, or sometimes they had walked. Harry never supected it was anything other than George being friendly. Now, though, he saw it for what it was.

"I didn't even realize," he said, looking at the three at the table with him. He did not mention that now, he realized that he had had a little crush on George. It did not apply to Fred, however. Fred was a good friend to Harry, but nothing else. There was just something about George.

"Well, hind-sight's twenty-twenty, you know," said Ginny, shrugging. "Hermione, we've still got that book signing to go to, remember?"

"Oh. I completely forgot! Sorry, guys... Can you get home all right?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "But you didn't tell us about any book signing. Who is it?"

Hermione looked up at Ginny. "You wouldn't know him. Ready, Hermione?"

"Yeah."

Hermione threw her apologies to Harry and Ron over her shoulder as Ginny tugged her towards the car. They watched her drive away, finishing up their ice cream. There was something very strange about Hermione lately... Harry just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Ready," Ron asked as Harry finished eating the waffle cone and was licking the stickiness from his fingers.

"Mmhmm." They threw away their trash, then headed on their way.

The two walked together in the midsummer's dusk. They chatted easily about nothing in particular. Harry eased his fingers into lacing with Ron's, who gave his hand a small squeeze. It seemed that there were only the two of them in the world. That there was no one and nothing else, and nothing mattered but the two of them.

All too soon, they reached Harry's drive. James's car was gone, and on the curb, was parked a shiny silver sports car that suspiciously looked as if it belonged to Draco Malfoy. Harry puzzled over this.

"Isn't that..." Ron looked down at Harry.

"It looks like it..."

"But it can't be..."

"Let's just see..."

Harry led Ron inside. The living room was dark, as was the kitchen. Lily had left her laptop in it's usual place on the kitchen table and a note labeled 'Harry and Chole' beside it. Harry picked it up and scanned quickly over her explination that James had a company function that they had to attend and Jason was staying with Grandma Potter. She had left them money for food as they would not be home until the next night. Apparently, the function was to be a long one. Harry passed the note to Ron as something on his mother's laptop screen caught his attention.

A wave of alarmed _deja vu_ swept over Harry as he took in the image before him. Lily had a webpage pulled up on some topic she was writing about. At the top of the page, outlined in a glowing, sinister emerald, was a symbol that made his heart jump into his Adam's apple and beat furiously. A skull, stark white, stared at him with its empty eye sockets, a serpent coming out of its mouth and wrapped around it, its red eyes boring into Harry's. _'The Dark Mark,' _breathed a voice in his head.

Harry had not even realized that he was backing away from the computer until he fell backwards over the rubbish bin. His eyes remained locked on the screen. The malevolent image continued to stare at him. Harry could hear the sinister laughter again, loud and ringing. Panic consumed him. He closed his eyes as it took him over.

When he was aware of himself again, he was still on the kitchen floor, and in Ron's arms, sobbing against his chest. Ron was holding onto him tight and pressing his lips to Harry's forehead, whispering little words of comfort to Harry. Harry buried his face against Ron's neck. He was shaking and confused and he could not stop crying. He was not sure why the picture had caused him to freak out and pitch a spaz -- for he was sure that was what had just happened -- but he knew that it was that picture that left a dark, foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Chole came downstairs then, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and staring. She was wearing a skirt, socks and her little gauze bra that left nothing at all to the imagination. Her lipstick was smudged and smeared around her lips, and her hair was a royal mess. Draco Malfoy came to stand beside her as she gawked. He leaned back against the doorframe, and Harry hated to admit it, but he was very attractive, standing there like that. His hair, usually so neat and orderly, was beginning to fall into his face at places. He was shirtless, his arms crossed over his chest. Harry could see the curve of every muscle on his lithe, pale frame. Malfoy's pants were unbuttoned, revealing the waistband of his black silk boxers. He looked down his nose at the two on the floor, his kiss-bruised lips pulled back into a smirk.

"Potter and Weaslby, hmm?"

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," Harry said, cutting Ron off before he could agrue. He did not have the paitence to listen to Ron argue with him. He did not even have the paitence to argue with Malfoy himself. He just wished that he had been correct in assuming that once summer had started, he would not have had to see Malfoy again until September.

Malfoy smirked some more, then left the doorway for the stairs, leading Chloe along behind him by her hand. Harry really did not like the fact that Malfoy and Chloe were obviously seeing one another, for the mere fact that Chloe was his little sister. He thought he ought to warn her that she might get her heart broken. He thought he might do it later when he had the energy to hold his head up properly. Chloe may have been rotten to him, but she was still family and he did not want to see her hurt, especially by someone like Malfoy.

"Cor..." Ron said, looking at the doorway that was now empty.

"I know... Can we go up to my room?"

"Yeah."

Ron looped one arm around Harry's back, the other under Harry's knees. Standing, he picked Harry up and started for the stairs. Harry protested that he was far to heavy for Ron, but the redhead would hear none of it. He went on up the stairs, not faltering under Harry's weight, and into Harry's room where he carefully deposited Harry onto the bed with the gentlest of movements. He ignored Harry's protest as he removed the darkhaired teen's shoes. Ron threw the shoes over by the window, sent his own to join them, then crawled up to lay beside Harry.

He gathered Harry into his arms and pulled him against his chest. Suddenly, nothing else mattered anymore. He was once more in that special world, and it was just him and Ron. Harry smiled up at Ron. His breath caught as he looked at him. The golden light threw in by the fading sun silhouetted Ron in its glow, making his hair shine like the firey mane of a lion. He was awed by the absolute beauty of it.

Harry placed a kiss on the underside of Ron's jaw before he snuggled against him and closed his eyes. He knew he would be fine. He would make it through the night undisturbed by nightmares. Ron would protect him. He fell asleep in Ron's arms, feeling safe and secure.

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_**Author's Response**_

_**emurez:** Yup, not everyone is a fan of slash, but... I am, heeheehee. I hope it won't spoil the whole story for you. If you want, you can close your eyes and keep telling yourself "It's Ginny Weasley, it's Ginny Weasley, **it's Ginny Weasley, damnit!"**_

_**Jemma Blackwell: **Heeheehee, glad you're still there. I'd miss you if you weren't. Yes, go Ron! gets one of those foamy finger things (wow... that sounded kinda dirty... or was it just me?)_


	11. Remedy

_It's been harder and harder to find the time (well, motivation, really) to write... We just got a new kitten! She's hogging all of my attention lately. But, I just can't help it. She's soooooooo cute! Her face is like a harlequin mask. (heeheehee, it's funny because I named her Harley and it's also my penname... Yeah, you know you want to laugh.) So, blame it on her. Don't hate me - I'm just a poor girl, and she's an adorable kitten with those evil doomy powers of...cute. Right, so, anyway, for those of you reviewing, thanks! It really means a lot. And special thanks to my beta, without whom this chapter would probably still be on the sucky side. Everyone clap for her brutal honesty and sharp eye for grammar mistakes! And, as you might notice, the rating went up on this fic. After reading this chapter, you'll see why. If this gets taken down, you'll know why. But, if it does, then it's up on and you can continue reading it there. Let's keep our fingers crossed for the best, huh? Oh, and this little note is for **emurez:** COVER YOUR EYES, DEAR! IT'S THE DREADED SLASH! Heehee, but you did say you like my slash, so maybe it won't be so bad. Right... I'm done here, so that's it._

_**Warnings:** Okay, folks, we're 11 chapters in... We should pretty much know (and expect) that there are going to be mentions of slashiness in here, right? But, I'm going to continue to tell you anyway so someone won't say "Ohmygod! It's a man and a man... and they're doing it... **and why didn't you tell me because this is totally sick! You're evil and going to Hell! Hell! **_**Hell, I say!"**_ Yeah... I don't need all that crazy shit, you know? So, here you go - SLASH! HERE AND IN FUTURE CHAPTERS! AND IT'S HIGHLY UNLIKELY THAT IT'S GOING TO STOP! So, you know, if that offends you and you fear for your immortal soul or something, THEN RUN FOR THE HILLS! And take the cows with you, okay? Damn those cows... _

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**Chapter 11 - Remedy**

Harry began to stir as the moonlight danced over his face. He could feel Ron spooned against his back, and smiled. Ron was muttering something or the other in his sleep. It sounded to Harry as if he was dreaming of spiders again. Harry chuckled. Ron's petrifying fear of spiders was amusing to him. He snuggled closer against Ron.

Down the hall, he could hear the distinct sounds of Chole and Draco talking. Their words were lost in the blaring of Chloe's stero, but Harry could tell they were arguing about something. A door slammed, probably the door to Chole's bedroom, then Draco came stomping down the hall. Harry listened with baited breath as he passed Harry's door. Draco stopped for something. Harry quickly closed his eyes when he saw the crack in his door being pushed open a bit wider.

It seemed like an eternity that Draco stood in his door way. Harry could feel his presence as if he could plainly see the other. He just stood in the doorway to Harry's room. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as if they were hands touching his face, burning hot and slowly roaming to explore. Harry stopped breathing all together.

He let out a sigh of relief when Draco finally stalked towards the stairs. Harry could hear him stomping down the stairs then slamming the front door. Draco's tires let out an eerie squeal as he sped off into the night. He shivered in rememberance of the intensity of Draco's stare. Malfoy had never looked at him like that. It was strangely... exciting.

Ron's breath danced over his ear, causing Harry to shiver again. He felt his lips against the back of his neck, pressing soft and loving against Harry's flesh. They started a slow, passionate trail over Harry's neck, his jaw, behind his ear. Harry gave a shuddering gasp as Ron took his earlobe between his teeth. He tugged on it gently, breath still filling Harry's ear. Harry squirmed back against Ron.

"Morning, Harry," Ron whispered into Harry's ear before his tongue swept out to trace the shell of his ear. Harry moaned aloud at the feeling. Ron gripped his hips, fingers kneading at the flesh. Then he did something that shocked Harry beyond belief and caused him to nearly scream in need: he thrust hard against Harry's bottom, bringing them both as close as possible. The feeling of Ron's hardness pressed firmly against him was intoxicating, and Harry could not lie still. He wiggled back against Ron. He delighted in Ron's moans, loud and proud, groaned as they sent shivers up and down his spine.

Ron soon had Harry on his back, pinning him down with his body. He continued to plunder the sweetness of Harry's mouth. Harry squirmed underneath him. All of his sense screamed for Ron, begged for his touches, demanded the feeling of their bodies crushed together. His head swam with the intensity of it all.

The sounds of Chloe banging on the wall and shouting were like little bumps to Harry, small and insignificant. He did not even care that she could hear them. It did not even matter that her stero was so loud that the wall was vibrating. Harry's whole world was buzzing. Everything but Ron was nothing to Harry, and everything that was Ron seemed to be magnified a thousand times as it assaulted Harry.

Ron was at Harry's waist, pushing his shirt up and kissing his bellybutton. He pushed the shirt up further, taking it off in a way that was very much like a caress. His lips followed the fabric. Soon, he was alternating between small kisses and tiny licks. Harry moaned as Ron reached one of his nipples. It was all driving him completely barmy. Ron's attention turned to the other nipple, causing Harry to squirm all the more. He continued over Harry's chest to his collar bone, lavisihing kisses and nips over it. His neck recieved the same treatment as Ron followed the shirttail.

Their lips met as Ron pulled the shirt over Harry's head. Harry opened his mouth for Ron's tongue, which was given quite willingly. He nursed it, grinding his body up against Ron. It seemed as if Ron was the only thing sustaining him. Without Ron, he feared he would cease to exsist. Despite all that, he felt so alive, moreso than he ever had before. Ron's hands were working soundless magic on Harry's body.

Hands at Harry's jeans waistband caused his breath to hitch. It stopped completely as Ron slowly unbuttoned then unzipped his pants. He moaned again as Ron pushed the offending pants away and the cool night air, which was filtering in through the open window, wrapped around the head of his twitching penis. It was peeking out from the top of his boxers. The change in temperature made him squirm.

Harry was no longer able to keep his hands still. They seemed to move of their own accord over Ron's back, and under his shirt to skim over Ron's soft skin and muscle. Ron reached back and pulled the shirt off over his head. Harry smiled as he tossed his mane of firey locks away from his face. He gasped as their flesh met and melted together. His pants were pushed down around his ankles, his boxers following shortly. He kicked them off then lifted his eyes shyly to meet Ron's. The last time he had been naked in front of his friend, he had been five and they had been swimming. The situation they were in now was totally different. He was slightly self-conscious, while another part of him wanted to writhe and move provactively under Ron's gaze, wanted to entice Ron, wanted to give himself wholly to the other boy.

He watched as Ron was watching him. His body burned as Ron's eyes devoured him. His tongue swept out to wet his lips as Ron removed his own pants and boxers, leaving himself in nothing but a pair of socks. He let his eyes roam slowly from Ron's face, down his creamy neck, past his freckled shoulders and smooth chest. The little brown nipples were diamond-hard peaks that practically begged for Harry's attnetnion. Ron's waist was a few sizes bigger than Harry's own, and slightly more musculalry defined. His bellybutton was not quite an innie, nor was it quite an outie, and Harry found it very cute. Trailing down from below was a thin line of bright red hair that lead to a matching thatch of pubic hair. Nestled in it and standing proudly tall was Ron's erect member. Harry's inchoerent feelings - because he had long since lost the power of thought, coherent or no - suddenly piled into one blinking beacon of consciousness: he wanted that inside of him.

Then the awkwardness set in. They both had no clue, aside from Sirius's book and instinct, of how to go about what would come next. Both of them had sat around reviewing the book, quite curious about the whole deal. Now, they were slightly unsure about what to do. This was not progressing with the evident ease that was displayed in porno movies or Ron's mother's paperback books with the heated front covers.

"We umm..." Harry looked at Ron's shoulder. "We need some..."

"I know," Ron said, leaning over to grab his pants. A few minutes of sorthing trhough the pocets rewarded Ron with a smal bottle of personal lubricant which his displayed to Harry.

"You..." Harry stared at him a moment before a smile began to spread across his face. "You wanted tonight to be it, didn't you?"

"I've been carrying it around for a week," Ron replied sheepishly.

Harry smacked his arm, still smiling. "Horny little bugger."

"It's all your fault, Mr. Potter."

Before Harry could continue the playful banter, Ron's mouth closed over his and all conversation was forgotten. With Ron coaxing him like that, Harry had no choice but to give him. The mood soon shifted to hot and heavy once more. Hands hot as fire lovingly prized Harry's thighs apart. There was no turning back for them anymore.

Harry's breath caught when he felt one of Ron's long fingers pushing into him. He could not help but moan at the feeling. He realized then what was about to happen. In all the time he had played scenes of this moment in his mind, he had not actually given much thought about who would be where. He knew now that he was about to be bottomoed. But, as Ron added two more fingers to his minstrations, he was no longer concerned. Ron moved between Harry's legs, pausing as he pressed against Harry's entrance. Taking a deep breath, he began pushing himself, bit by bit, into Harry until the head of his cock was enveloped in Harry's warm body. He kissed all over Harry's face as it contorted in pain.

"I'll stop if you want me to," he said.

Harry shook his head in the negative, eyes still clamped shut. "Not now, you won't."

"But if you're hurting too bad..." He tried to start pulling back out.

"Shut up, Ron, and get on with it! Trust me, you'll find out exactly how it feels sooner or later."

Ron began to push into Harry once again, his movements as slow and gentle as possible. The pained look on Harry's face gradually grew more and more intense. Harry tossed his head to the side, crying out in pain. Ron attempted to pull out, but before he could finish the act, Harry - who had pulled his feet up close to his body, his knees bent - used his leverage to thrust up and bury Ron fully inside him. He bit his lip bloody to stifle his screaming. He was vaguely aware of Ron kissing the tears away from his cheeks. The pain tore through him, but he was aware the whole while of Ron deep inside him.

He held tight to Ron as he became comfortable with the intrusion. Harry buried his face against Ron's neck. His tears soon stopped as Ron kissed his shoulder over and over. Harry knew Ron was waiting to be sure that Harry was okay before things went any further.

"Okay," Harry panted after a while. "Okay, love, go. Go on."

And on Ron went. He raised himself up above Harry with his hands and gave a few experimental thrusts. The little moans he produced from Harry seemed to boost his confidence. He soon settled into a comfortable rhythm.

Harry marveled at what he was feeling. Ron was filling him. There was a bit of pain, but he barely noticed for the mounting feelings in his abdomen. Soon, the pain was gone, and pure pleasure washed over him.

"Harder," Harry panted. "Ron... Harder..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah..."

Ron pushed into Harry harder, but it just was not enough for Harry. He threw his legs around Ron's waist and held on tight. He lifted his hips to get the best of Ron's thrusts. He urged Ron to go harder, faster, deeper.

"I don't want to hurt you," Ron said. He stared down at Harry's sweaty face, love and concern clearly reflected towards Harry.

"Do it, Ron," he yelled, grinding up to Ron particualrly hard. "Do it, do it, do it, do - oooooooh...!"

He cut off mid-sentence as his voice gave way to moaning. He could no longer form words, could only moan as Ron pounded into him. He had been so worried about his first time hurting, but he found the pain did not bother him at all. In fact, it was all he needed to finally get over the edge. He came on a scream before Ron covered his mouth in a kiss. His insides felt warm and he knew Ron had came a split second after he had. A few final thrusts, then Ron collapsed ontop of him, Harry's fluids between them.

"I love you," panted Ron against Harry's ear.

Harry pushed Ron back by his shoulders. Once he could see into the other's eyes properly, he searched them for any sign of untruth to Ron's words. Finally, his heart swelled in his chest. He could see that Ron meant what he said.

"I love you back."

Ron smiled his lopsided grin down at Harry, who smiled back. The noises began coming back to Harry, reminding him of the world outside his and Ron's lovemaking. He heard Chloe's stero blaring in her room, the sounds of the night (for it had long since marched to after midnight while Harry had been distracted most pleasantly by Ron), and the television downstairs roaring the sounds of music videos Chloe had probably fallen asleep watching.

"Was that... okay?" Ron was looking down at Harry hopefully.

"Mm-hmm." Harry smiled up at him. "Wonderful. And it didn't hurt me... not in anyway I didn't like, I mean."

The two boys pulled apart to lay on their sides facing one another. They were content to just bask in the afterglow that still lingered around them. Harry reached forward to tangle his fingers in the sweaty red hair at the nape of Ron's neck. His hand stroked lovingly against Ron's head.

"A year ago, if someone told you that this is where you would be now, would you have laughed in their face or pummled them?"

Ron looked down at his hands. "Well, to be completely honest... I've suspected."

"What? Since when?"

"Since..." Ron was visibly reluctant to talk about it. "Since umm... That cut on your head seems to be healing nicely."

Harry fingered the now-scarred lightening-bolt on his forehead. "Stop changing the subject, Ronald. I might have to spank you if you won't cooperate."

"Fine... even though I might enjoy a good spanking." Ron took a deep breath. "Since last year after Sirius and Remus's Chrismas part. Hermione's parents were in the Alps on that ski trip, remember? She invited me in to watch a movie, we had more egg nog ontop of what we had at the party, then one thing lead to another, and... I just never had any urge to do it again... You know, with a girl, I mean."

"You..." Harry stared at Ron, mouth slack with shock. "You... Hermione... I... Wow..." He regained his senses enough to slap Ron's arm.

"Ow, Harry! What was that for?"

"You two never told me!"

"We... both kind of tried to block it out. Wasn't really that great for her, either."

"What do you mea - mmm..."

Harry gladly shut up when Ron kissed him again. The conversation did not matter anymore to him. All he was concerned with was Ron's tongue in his mouth and his awakening erection. He threw his leg over Ron's waist, then, using it to push Ron down onto his back, he straddled Ron's waist. He slowly pulled his lips away from Ron's.

"Not tired, Mr. Weasley?"

"Not in the slightest, Mr. Potter."

"Then allow me to remedy that..."

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	12. Just Harry

_Weee, chapter 12! This can't be said for certain (for writing is most of the time unpredictable and (it's supposed to be) flowing) but I think the good stuff is going to start happening real soon. Most of the filler appears to be over (aside from a few future chapters for fun) and the drama shall unfold. Slowly but surely, this story is unfolding! Like... well, you can decide for yourself what it's unfolding like because I have a very dirty mind I should keep to myself. _

_**Warnings:** Parental talks, mention of previous homosexual relationships._

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**Chapter 12 - Just Harry**

The boys managed to struggle into some pajamas and fall asleep before Harry's parents made it home. They fell asleep in each other's arms. James and Lily did not return home with Jason until late in the afternoon. Harry had already untangled himself from Ron, climbed out of bed, and was putting his clothes in the laundry hamper when Lily knocked softly. She poked her head in the door after Harry's consent to enter.

"Pizza for dinner, honey." She looked over at Ron, who was snoring on the bed still. "Wake up Ron, and you two come downstairs."

"Thanks, Mom."

Harry waited until she left and closed the door behind her before he turned back to the bed. He chuckled as Ron gave a particularly loud snore. Harry crept towards the bed as quiet as possible. He sat on the edge by Ron's legs.

"Ron," he said, giving Ron's leg a little shake. "Dinner time, Ron. Wakie, wakie."

Ron grunted and rolled onto his side. He sat up, looking blearily at the empty bed beside him. "Harry? Where are you?"

Harry climbed up beside Ron who was still half asleep. "Right here, love," he whispered in Ron's ear.

He moved to Ron's neck, placing a small kiss against the skin there. Ron shivered a bit under his lips. Harry smiled to himself before nipping at Ron's neck. A small moan passed between Ron's lips. The sounds encouraged him. He bit into the side of Ron's neck, rolled the skin between his teeth and sucked on it. He held himself up over Ron on all fours as Ron moaned and squirmed underneath him. Ron was very awake and tangling his hands in Harry's hair. He ran his hands down Harry's back as Harry sat up.

"Dinner, baby," Harry said. Before Ron could get another hold on him, Harry sprang off the bed and ran for the bedroom door.

Ron stared after him in shocked. Harry stopped at the door to thumb his nose at Ron then continued running. The redhead gathered his wits enough to scramble out of the bed... before falling on his face. His feet had gotten tangled in Harry's bedsheet. Harry peeked around the corner at Ron on the floor. He could not contain his laughter.

"Think that's funny, do you," asked Ron, rubbing his forehead where it had hit the floor.

"Very," answered Harry.

"Then may I suggest that you run, Mr. Potter. I happen to think you should be punished for laughing."

He jumped up then and gave chase after Harry. Neither of them could keep from laughing as they ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Harry remained just out of reach for Ron. Ron's legs were longer, though, and he finally caught his raven-haired lover in the hallway before the kitchen door. He pinned him against the wall.

"Caught you," he whispered, smiling.

"So you did." Harry smiled up at Ron. He lowered his eyes, then peeked coyly up at him from under his lashes, acheiving a spectacular imitation of a shy schoolgirl. "Are you expecting some kind of reward?"

Ron did not answer; he stole a kiss as forefit. His lips lingered against Harry's just long enough for Harry's to melt against his. He pulled back then, and smiling at Harry, continued into the kitchen.

Lily had the pizza already sat on plates. James was sitting at the table, eating a slice and looking over some papers. Jason sat happily in his highchair beside his mother and happily had a piece of crust stuck in his mouth. Chloe, however, was a stormcloud over the whole scene. She sat at the table, picking cheese and topping from her slice and throwing it down at her plate. With the smoking glare she had fixed on the plate, it was amazing that the styrofoam did not go up in flames. She was clearly in one of her post-hissy tantrum moods. Harry once again wondered about the fight she had had with Draco as he sat down. There was no doubt that she was upset about exactly that. She spared a glowering glance at Ron before turning her hazel eyes on Harry. She glared at her older brother in what was very close to pure, unadulterated hatred. Confused, Harry immearsed himself into his pizza.

He had become accustomed to Chloe blaming all of her problems, no matter what they were, on him. He never took it to heart for he was not the only one who bore the great burden that was Chloe's plethora of woe. Everyone had a part in the million and one reasons her life sucked. After all their years of sibling-living, Harry had learned that it was just best to ignore her and let her say what she wanted. There was just less argument that way. For some reason, though, it was all different. He still was not even sure what the arguement had been about, and was not likely to find out while there was a possibility their parents could hear. The whole situation irked him.

Dinner that night was a rather quiet affair. James was absorbed in his paperwork, Lily in her laptop, though each would add their part into the sparse conversation. Chloe continued on with her moody silence, and Jason was quiet aside from his baby jabberings that no one could understand anyway. The boys chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Potter when conversation was started, but they mainly exchanged glances when no one was looking. Harry continued to ignore Chloe's dirty looks in favor of Ron's bedroom eyes.

"So, Chole," said James, his tone conversational as he looked at his middle child. "What did you do today?"

Chloe looked up from stabbing her pizza with a butter knife. She barely spared James a glance before fixing her glare on Harry once again. Her eyes burned at him, clearly accusing him of messing things up for her once more. Harry felt his temper begin to rise.

"Nothing," she grumbled, still holding Harry's eyes.

"That's nice... and where did you go?"

"Nowhere."

"Something wrong, dear," Lily asked. She had paused in feeding Jason to take in the scene at the table.

"No. Well..." Her face started to glow with the growing smirk on her face. She turned her face to her parents, eyes full of worry and innocence, not the malicious anger she had just displayed to Harry. He knew what was coming. "Aside from..."

"Chloe, don't," he said.

"Don't what, Harry? Tell Mum and Dad what happened this afternoon? That the cat didn't really break the china dish, but it happend when..."

"Shut up." His teeth were clenched now. "Just shut your face, Chloe. Now."

"But, Harry... They're only concerned about you..."

"All right," James said. He stood up, looking between his children. "Out with it, Chloe. The whole thing."

Chloe spared a malevolent look at her brother before looking up at her father again. "Harry had another fit today, Daddy... I was so afraid... I didn't know what to do... He spazzed all over the kitchen, screaming about that Lord Voldythingy again..."

The whole room went silent. Under the table, Ron put a hand on Harry's knee to calm him. The gesture did nothing to calm Harry, however. He was gripping the table as if he was going to flip it over at any minute. James and Lily were staring at him with those tell-tale looks. Harry knew exactly what was coming next and there was nothing at all he coould do about it. Behind his parents, Chloe was smiling at him, the smug and self-satisified smile the likes of a pampered fat cat that had finally caught the mouse it had sought for so long. Anger began to eat at his insides.

"Harry, is it true," Lily asked. Harry said nothing.

"Answer us, son," said James. Still, Harry remained silent. "I see... Tomorrow we'll call to set up an appointment for you. Harry... You're grounded for a week. You shouldn't have kept this from your mother and I. What if something serious is wrong?"

"Oh yes," Harry said, no longer able to contain his anger. "We all know I'm crazy. Why set up an appointment? Just throw me in the nuthouse right now!"

"Harry, lower your voice," James said in a stern voice.

"Of course I'm in trouble," Harry stormed, ignoring his father's order. He knew now that there was something he could do: Give Chloe a taste of her own medicine. "Of course I get sent to get a labatomy! Princess Chloe over there is becoming a regular teenage trollop under your noses! But, of COURSE, I get grounded because I see things! Right! Perfect! Great!"

"You're grounded for two weeks, Harry, and don't talk about your sister like that."

Harry had not thought it was possible for him to get any more upset. But as his parents heaped on more punishment and Chloe sat there, a smile still on her smug face, he was proven wrong. his anger burst up through his body and threatened to send him into a screaming tantrum that would rival even Chloe's worst. He sprang up from his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at his sister. Jason had started crying, Lily now holding him to try to calm him, but it barely scratched the surface of Harry's rage.

"What Chloe forgot to tell you," he shouted, "is she had Draco Malfoy over last night! She was right in the middle of buggering him when I interrupted with my "episode!" But oops! You weren't supposed to know that, were you!"

Harry grinned in triumph as Chloe's face fell. James turned to his only daughter, anger clearly written all over his face. It took a few minutes for him to form coherent speech. Harry knew he had finally beat Chloe at her own game. Their parents were very avid about them refraning from pre-marital sex. He was a joyfully spiteful bundle of nerves inside.

"Chloe... is there something you would like to tell us...?"

"But, Daddy - "

"No," James said in a loud voice that bordered on shouting. It was rarely ever that James shouted, and when he did, then something was really upsetting him. "No 'But, Daddy!' I want the truth! Have you been having boys over?"

"Yes..." Chloe said, looking down at her hands. Harry nearly crowed in victory.

"You're grounded for the next month. No television, no phones - cell or otherwise, no computer. You don't go anywhere but home and school, and you're taking the bus. And you're never to see that boy again, are we clear?"

"Daddy!" she shouted, jumping up out of her chair. James had obviously hit her where it hurt. It just kept getting sweeter and sweeter for Harry.

"No arguments!"

"But - "

"I said, NO arguments!"

"HarryhasbeenhavingsexwithRon," Chloe shouted before her father could stop her.

Things were not so sweet for Harry anymore. He did not feel like crowing. Inside, he was ice-cold with dread. His victory over Chloe wrenched itself from his hands and flew away on little white wings before he might seize it again. He stood his ground, however, when James turned to him again. Harry was not ashamed of what he had done with Ron, and he would not let his parents think so on any circumstances.

"We'll talk about this later," James said. His voice was low and his eyes were angry. This had a far more profound effect on his children than the shouting did. "Ron... I'm sorry you had to see all this."

"It's all right, Mr. Potter," said Ron, who had been quiet through the whole ordeal. His hand had long ago found Harry's and intertwined their fingers together. He gave Harry's hand a little squeeze. "Thank you for dinner. Harry, walk me to the door..."

He was up and tugging Harry toward the door before the latter could protest. Harry could see his ears burning a rose pink, but he seemed to be in control of the whole situation. At the door, he pulled Harry out into the night with him. Harry was still shaking in anger.

"Hey," Ron whispered. He pushed Harry's hair away from his face. "Hey, look at me..."

Harry obediently raised his eyes to look up at Ron. The blue eyes he met reassured him that Ron would take care of him. He knew that he would be safe with Ron by his side. Everything would be all right. Ron brushed a kiss over his lips then gathered Harry in his arms.

"I love you, Harry," his said to the top of Harry's head. "And nothing is going to change that. Just try to keep your temper when your parents talk to you. I'll see you tomorrow, I promise, okay?"

"Okay." Harry smiled up at Ron.

"Okay. I love you. Promise."

"I love you too, Ron."

The two hugged once more before Ron pulled away. He kissed Harry again. Harry smiled a him as he walked away. He stood there on the porch to watch Ron's retreating back until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. If he could have, he would have stayed there until the end of eternity. It would have been so much better than facing his parents. But, he knew what he had to do. With a sigh, he went back into the house and to the living room where he knew his parents and Chloe would be waiting for him.

James was already in the middle of preaching to Chloe when he reached the doorway. Lily was coming back down the stairs after putting Jason to bed. She sat down on the arm of James's chair. Harry knew that she would not come to his aid this time. He was going to be totally at James's mercy.

Chloe was sitting on the sofa, her chin set defiantly and tears threatening to spill down onto her cheeks. She was holding to the coushions as if she just might rip them apart. Harry did not feel a bit of sympathy for his little sister, not even when their father forbid her indefinately from seeing Draco Malfoy again. He was sure it was for the better, anyhow. Draco Malfoy was nothing but trouble.

"Now, go to your room, and if you dare to sneak out that window or sneak someone in, I'll nail it shut," James said. "Am I clear, young lady?"

"Transparent..."

She stormed up and stomped out of the living room like a five-year-old would. Harry, who was still standing in the doorway, merely smiled at her. She burst into tears then, and ran up the stairs. Her door slammed soon after. James turned to him then.

"Sit."

Harry moved to the couch as slow as he thought he would get away with. He was not at all keen to have this conversation with his father, and he knew it was coming whether he was willing or not. James watched as he sat on the sofa. He resumed his seat in the armchair. For a moment, no one said anything. Father and son sat, looking at one another, studying identical faces and different eyes. Then James sighed. He pushed a hand through his hair as Harry tended to do when he was nervous or upset. He looked at his son again.

"I was wondering when this would happen," he said.

If there had been anything he expected to hear from his father, it was definitely not that. He had expected yelling. He had expected disappointment. He had expected more punishment and being told he would never be able to see Ron again. His temper abaited slightly. Somewhere, deep in him, he wondered if this calm acceptance was what he really wanted. Harry half wanted any reason at all to hate his parents. He needed something to add to his anger over being sent to a shrink.

"What?"

"You and Ron have always had a way between you," James said. He was not angry now, Harry could tell. "Ever since you were little. The whole family treated you as if you were something fraglie since... Well, since the... incident..."

The incident. Lily had had a hard time bearing Harry as a child. The doctors told her that it was likely she would miscarry before Harry came to term. They had been right. Five and a half months into the pregnancy, Lily had gone into labor while doing the dishes one morning. Nine hours later, a dangerously small Harry was born, the umbilical cord wrapped around his tiny neck and his face blue. He hadn't been breathing. For three long minutes, the doctors had preformed CPR on baby Harry, fruitlessly.

Finally, they got him breathing, though it was shallow. He was hooked up to IVs and oxygen machines. The doctors told his parents that he might not live, and if he did, it would be a very slim chance he would see age nine. His lungs were weak, and they could not be sure of how long he had been without air. There had been the possiblity of brain damage. No one had expected Harry to make it through the night.

But he did. His improvement was slow, but it was there, and that was enough to keep the little sparks of faith in his parents and the doctors. He made it through a week, then two, then three, and a month. His parents were finally allowed to have their baby, their Harry, their boy who lived. The doctors cautioned them again on his chances of survival.

Harry's entire childhood, he was treated as some especially fragile porceline doll. His parents and family did everything to keep him safe aside from putting him in a bubble or wrapping him in cotton. They were reluctant to release him into the care of the pre-school instructor, and pressed upon her the importance of his condition. Harry grew into a healthy little boy over the years. His parents continued to caution his teachers year after year, they continued to baby him, and even after Chloe was born, Harry was the one they worried about. Lily had bore Chloe full-term, she had been a healthy, chubby little baby, and Harry was still so small for his age. He remained priority in the worry catagory. In fact, they had never really stopped worrying so much about him.

"Ron was your first friend. He didn't treat you as some person with an illness, or handle you with special care. To him, you were just Harry, and that endeared him to you. That time when you got pneumonia when you were twelve and none of us thought you would pull through, Ron was at your bedside as much as possible. It was almost as if he was watching over you." James chuckled. "I suppose he was. After you recovered, you two were even closer. Ron has looked after you since then. I suspected that it was only a matter of time before you two... Well, before you two realized how much you need one another. Because you do, Harry. You see Ron how he wants to be seen, as a person, not just another Weasley. And Ron... he takes care of you. Always has, and I know he always will." He paused and looked up at his son. "That doesn't mean I fully approve of what you're doing, mind you. I know you and Ron feel strongly for one another, there's no doubt about that... but I want you to think about this long and hard, okay?"

"Dad," Harry said, finally getting over his astonishment. "I love Ron. And he loves me."

"Just hear me out, son. You're still young, you have all the time in the world left ahead of you. What seems important now may not matter so much in a few days, or a week, or a month. Trust me, Harry, what feels like love may only be fleeting interest."

"How do you know?"

James sighed again. He looked to the stairs; Lily was still upstairs. "In high school, I... tried things. Like you are now..."

"I know, Dad. Sirius already told me about you and him and Remus."

"Good, good." James looked as if he was glad that he didn't actually have to say the words to his son. "Then I suppose he also told you how i thought I was in love with... him..."

"Sirius! You and... Oh my God..." The mental image Harry recieved was... wrong. James and Sirius had always been like brothers. Harry could not picture them in any other situation.

"Sirius," James laughed. "Me and Sirius? Hell no, Harry!" He wiped his eyes under his glasses, still chuckling a little. He smiled at his son before continuing. "No, me and Remus." This, Harry found more astonishing.

"What...?"

"Yeah." James nodded. "Sirius was having doubts, Remus came to me for comfort and one thing led to another, then... It made me have second thoughts about being with your mother. There's a difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone, Harry. You'll always love someone, that can't change. But you can fall in and out of love with someone. If I hadn't realized the difference, I might not have married your mother. I love Remus, but what was between us was infatuation on both parts. We both realized it before we made anything more serious out of it. I married your mother, fathered three wonderful children. Sirius stopped being such a prat and, after muchmaking up for it, Remus took him back. We all look back on the situation fondly.

"Now, I told you all of this in an attempt to give you advice. I'm not going to forbid you from seeing Ron. I'm not going to send you to homophobic counseling, and I'm not going to march you straight into church and make you serve pentance. Your mother and I both understand that it's your life and your decisions, and we both think that Ron is a good boy and we know he'll be good to you if you two should make a life out of what you have. I am going to ask you, though, that you two take this slow. Don't let your hormones run away with you. Sex is not a good thing to build a relationship on."

Harry felt the rising heat of blush creeping up his back and neck. He never got over how embarrassing it was to talk about sex with either one of his parents. James was the lecturer, and Lily was the explain-every-organ-and-it's-function-and-what-happens-to-each-when-infected-with-sexually-transmitted-diseases parent. She even had pictures a doctor friend of her's had given her.

"I know it feels good," James was saying, causing Harry to wish he could disappear through the floor, "but is it enough to risk your friendship over? Think about that long and hard, Harry. What you and Ron have doesn't come along every day. Now, get up to bed."

Thankfully, Harry smiled at his dad and hurried for the stairs. He couldn't believe his luck; he had gotten off practically scott-free and managed to keep his temper. He managed to reach the bottommost step before his father called out to him.

"Harry?"

For a moment, his heart sank. He froze, one foot on the floor and the other on the step, his hand still on the banister. Had his father remembered something he had wanted to say? Some angry comment? Or worse... did he change his mind and want to forbid him from seeing Ron?

"Yes?"

"You're still grounded, son."

Though he should have been at least a little upset, Harry was still happy inside. He smiled back at his father again, then continued to his room. Joy rumbled through him; he could be with Ron and his parents approved. He flopped back onto his bed, a smile on his face. In his state of euphoria, he had completely forgotten that the next day, he would be sent to see some crackpot doctor to have his head examined.

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_**Author's Response**_

_**emurez: **Thanks!_


	13. The Doctor

_Here's the fourteenth chapter, which is slightly very interesting, if I do say so myself. Half of the fun of this story is setting witches and wizards everyday jobs, and this chapter was certainly no exception. You'll see why. Just a bit of shameless plugging here: Attention Harry Potter fans! Itching to get your hands on some quality humor shirts based on your favorite series? Well, then this will be good news to you! Mugglewear, the newclothing station that's sweeping the nation, is now up, running and looking for a few good customers! We need _You! _Stop in today to check out the merchandise, and keep an eye out for new stuff. I promise, you'll get a laugh out of it. (link in my profile)_

_Hem, hem... Okay, I'm done now._

_**Warnings:** None (aside from the plugging up there)_

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Chapter 13 - The Doctor

Harry sat in the reception room of a large building, chewing on his thumbnail in anger. The secretary at the desk was his only company. He sat at his desk, a doty look on his face, typing away at a letter. Every now and then, he would look down his nose and over his horn-rimmed glasses and give Harry a look that made him want to slap it off his face. He refrained, for he did not need to be in anymore trouble than he already was with his parents, did not need the drama, and the secretary in question was none other than one of Ron's older brothers, Percy Weasley. Harry had never quite liked Percy; during school, Percy had been on the academics team, a straight A student, taken all honors classes, been valadictorian of his class and highly ambitious - and quite the stuffy, pompous kind of person.

Somehow, Harry had forgotten that Percy held this job. When he had been hired here, straight after school, the Weasley family had thrown a celebration that Harry himself had attended. This particular psychiatric pratice was hailed as the best in all of Europe, dealing with a wide variety of ailments. It had been a great success for Percy to be accepted so soon, when most people did not get so lucky. He had started rather small, but his ambition aided him well, and he was now head secertary to the most influentual doctor in the firm, a man who was known as the most powerful and eligible bachelor in England. Not only was he a celebrated psychiatrist, he was also a weathly business man who seemed to have a hand in every goings-on in England, Ireland, and even in the Americas. Everyone seemed to work for this man, aside from James and Lily and the others who vehemently refused to sell-out.

So, there Harry sat, in the office of a man his parents did not particualrly care for, all because he was the only doctor in all of England qualified to assess Harry's condition. His parents' concern for his health outweighed their dislike of this man. He considered attempting conversation with Percy, but changed his mind as Percy gave him another disapproving look. Harry wondered what tale he would go tell to his family. He just smiled at Percy, who thought he was barmy. Hopefully, the Weasleys would know he was fairly sane.

"Harry?"

The door to his left had opened. Standing there, was a handsome man, possibly in his late forties. His black hair was beginning to become sprinkled with silver, but rather than make him look old, it gave him a dignified look. He was dressed neatly in a pair of dark gray slacks, a red turtlenecked jumper, and a black blazer with matching black loafers on his feet. He smiled at Harry. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, dark green eyes that seemed to hold a malicious spark Harry was sure he had only imagined.

"You can come in now."

Harry got to his feet. Percy made a quiet disapproving noise, still typing at his letter. He merely glanced at this black sheep of the Weasley family before heading into the office. As he walked past the doctor, he smelled rich cologne and felt a familiar sense of pain in his forehead. It was a dull ache that screamed at him to remember... something. He shook his head. He couldn't tell what he was supposed to be remembering.

James and Lily were sitting in armchairs in front of a fancy desk beside the large window. There was a bookcase against one wall that was occupied with neatly arranged books from floor to ceiling. A Victorian fireplace took up the fourth wall, but since the days were still warm in the late summer season, there was no fire burning merrily in the grate. The doctor motioned toward the customary couch. When Harry sat, he moved to his desk. He leaned his tall, slender form back against the front of his desk, standing before the Potters.

"As I told you just a moment ago," in a voice that had rich, deep undertones, but a certain high quality to it. "For today, I'll just talk with Harry. If I can isolate the problem in this session, we can see what can be done about it, and follow-up sessions may not be necessary. If I cannot determine the cause, then we can go about scheduling the next appointment. Does that sound good, Mr. Potter? Mrs. Potter?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Lily said, looking at her husband.

"All right," he said, rubbing his hands and smiling at Harry. "Well, Harry and I have an hour together... We shall see you then."

He showed them to the door, reassuring them all the way that Harry was in capable hands. They bade him good-bye at the door then took seats in the waiting room. Harry heard them saying hello to Percy, who responded politely, as the door shut. The doctor moved to his desk. He picked up a stopwatch, pressed a few buttons to set it, then turned back to him, smiling that odd smile again. For a moment he stood there, looking at Harry who was looking back. They seemed to be sizing each other up.

"What would you like to talk about," the doctor asked. He turned one of the armchairs around to face the couch. Harry watched as he sat, his movements a fluid grace. There was just something about him, about the way he spoke, about the way he moved that shouted in familiarity at Harry.

"Why are you asking me," Harry said, still watching as the doctor watched him. "You're the shrink. Isn't it your job to ask me questions and decide how crazy I am?"

"No, Harry. It's my job to talk to you so I can find a way to help you if you need my help. Do you want me to help you, Harry?"

Harry did not answer. He just studied the face of the psychitarist before him. There was something familiar about that aristocratic face that looked snow-white compared to his jet-black hair, the tall and slender frame, those eyes that picked into his mind, hard and calculating. If only he could place it...

"Why don't you ask me questions, then, Harry?"

This took Harry off guard. The doctor was asking him to ask the questions. He stared at him for a moment, trying to see if he was being serious or not. "Fine... Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No, I don't. I think you might have a wild imagination, but I don't think that you're crazy, no."

"You think this stuff is all in my head?"

"It could be stress-induced, or it could be something else. We shall just have to see."

"Oh..."

"How about I tell you about myself, and then you can tell me about you?" Harry nodded. "All right. Well, I'm newly forty-six, but that's a secret." He wink conspiritaly at Harry. "I went to the same high school as you, graduated as valedictorian of my class, and traveled around Europe for three years before settling on psychiatry as my primary profession. At age thirty, I coupled that with a a few other business venturesm and steadily became the success I am today, all be knowing the right people and keeping my eyes on the prize." He paused here to clean his glasses on his jumper. "So, now tell me about you, Harry Potter."

"I'm seventeen years-old, I really have no idea what I'm interested in doing when I leave school. I have a few good friends, but I'm not immensely popular. I know who I can rely on."

The doctor nodded. "Somewhat of a loner. A few confidants, but you don't really let anyone in, am I right?"

"Yeah."

He nodded again. "I was the same way in school. I chose my friends very wisely, for the traits they offered and how that could benefit me. Look where it go me."

While the doctor smiled again, a slightly wary feeling rose up in Harry. There was something about the man before him that put him on guard. "I didn't chose my friends for the ways they could benefit me," Harry said. "I chose them because they care about me."

"Ah... Tell me about your family, Harry."

He had to resist rolling his eyes; why was it that all doctors asked about their paitents mothers? "My dad and mum are really great. I don't know where I'd be without them, even if they are a little overbearing. They thought I was going to die when I was little so they tried to keep me safe every way possible. They still haven't really let go, I guess... I have a sister, Chloe. She's younger than me by four years. She's... a holy terror. Mum and Dad were always so worried about me when we were little that I guess they didn't really pay her that much attention. Now she's a rocker and wears all this crazy make-up and black clothes, listens to her music all the time, and she recently got grounded for sneaking boys in."

"Sounds like she's acting out to get attention," the doctor said, leaning his head on a fist.

"I guess... Jason's our little brother. He's almost a year old, and he's a sweet little baby. Chloe really hates him, I guess because now he's the one getting attention. I've got a godfather. His name is Sirius, he owns a motorbike shop and lives with his... friend, Remus. And that's really it."

"I see. When you say 'his friend,' do you mean something else?"

"Well, they _are_ friends."

"Are they in a homosexual relationship?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"And how does that make you feel?"

"They've been together since they were in high school. I've always known them like that. I'm glad they're happy."

"It doesn't bother you," he asked. "You don't find it offensive? Or a sin?"

_'If he only knew,' _Harry thought. "No. They were made for one another."

"Okay. How are things at home, Harry?"

"Fine when Chloe isn't pitching spazzes everywhere because she can't have new eyeliner or some skirt. Dad and Mum have family and friends over a lot, so I'm always around people, people I like. It's nice."

"And how were things at school?"

"They were... average. I was failing a few classes and had to pull them up, some of my teachers were vampires, I've got to start applying to colleges which means I have to figure out what I want to do, and I got into a few scrapes."

"Vampires, you say?"

"Yeah..." Harry got the impression he had said something wrong. The doctor was looking at him imploringly.

"You mean this metaphorically, I take it."

"Yeah, I do. I just meant that they were rough."

"I see. And how are things with your friends? Are you all getting along?

"Yeah. A friend of ours came home a few months back, that was great. We have our disagreements, but we're still really good friends. No matter what, at the end of the day, we'll always be there for one another."

"That's good," the doctor said. "Do they ever make you do something you don't want to do?"

"No."

"Do they pressure you into doing something you don't want to do?"

"Homework," Harry said, thinking of Hermione. The doctor gave a little chuckle.

"Your friends sound very interesting, Harry."

"They are."

"Tell me about these dreams, Harry," he said, the conversation very serious now. "When did they start?"

"A few months ago... I don't remember the exact date..."

He nodded. "And they only occur at night?"

"No... Sometimes during the day. I... I pass out."

"Tell me about them."

Harry opened his mouth, rather reluctantly, to speak. This was the part he had been dreading. Once he had told this man about his dreams of a dark, magical world and that he sometimes got vivid memories of what seemed to be another life, he knew the man would chuck him into the looney bin so fast, his head would pop off. It would be spinning that fast, you see.

"Well... It's always dark... and everyone I know, practically, is there..."

The stopwatch began to buzz, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. He restrained the urge to sigh aloud in relief. "Time's up, it seems," the doctor said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Harry. I am going to speak to your parents once more, and then we shall be finished, all right?"

"Sure."

The doctor stood and waited for him. Harry gladly got to his feet. With a smile, the doctor headed for the door. James and Lily were still sitting in the reception room. They ceased their conversation with Percy when the doctor held the door open.

"Harry, if you would, please take a seat and I'll return your parents to you shortly."

Harry sat in one of the fluffy waiting chairs. The doctor and his parents went back into the office, again leaving him alone with Percy Weasley. Percy was, once more, ignoring him inbetween disapproving looks.

His parents and the doctor soon came back. The doctor shook all of their hands, smiled, then sent them on their way. Harry looked back over his shoulder as they reached the exit door. The door to the doctor's office was closing, and Harry's eyes caught on a glittering name plack on the door. Something in him went ice cold when he read that name. It was a name he had heard, once upon a nightmare...

Tom Riddle.

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**_Author's Response_**

_**emurez:** Heehee, yes they did! Wasn't it so angsty and stuff?_

_**Gay Ron:** Thanks! Um... continue reading along to find out. _

**_willow51:_ **_Thanks, and I will! Keep enjoying it!_


	14. Pacifier

_As you can see, we're 14 chapters in now, and I can tell, this will be a good few chapters longer. I've got lots of stuff I wanna fit in before the big finale, and I haven't quite decided howI want to end it yet, so we shall just have to see where things go from here. To everyone who reviewed, thank you. It only takes a few minutes, but it means so much. Now, on with the story because I have nothing more to say._

_**Warnings:** Slashiness again._

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**Chapter 14 - Pacifier**

The balmy summer's night was in full bloom, and a sleepy silence had taken ahold of the neighborhood. The streetlights had long since came on as the sun went down in blazing glory. It seemed to be so hot outside that even the creatures of the night were taking a break. Harry noticed none of this. His mind was back in Dr. Riddle's office, a week ago. Something about his visit, about Riddle... Something about the whole bundle bothered him. There was something going on, and it was just out of reach of Harry's comprehension. The world around him was... Whatever it was doing, it was happening right under him. And he was the only one that seemed to notice.

No one noticed the odd happenings right in front of their faces for what they were. The last step disappearing, causing Chloe to fall down in the middle of screaming at Harry. The coffee machine blowing up when Marcus got too close to him. The old tabby cat that seemed to be following him everywhere. And more and more owls seemed to be flocking to his neighborhood. It was just Harry that saw these things. They convinently vanished or could be explained away when Harry pointed them out to someone. Chloe had only missed the step. Marcus had busted a dial. There was no cat. The owls' mating had increased and blah, blah, blah. It was just driving Harry insane... or even more insane than everyone seemed to think he was.

He was due to see Riddle for their second session in a week. Riddle would again ask him about his nightmares, and this time, he would have to say something. The cold feeling was still resting in the pit of his stomach. It lurched every time he thought about Riddle. The night after his first visit, he had dreamed again for the first time in nearly a month. He had relived the battle again twice more, the most recent being the reason he was sitting on his porch swing, staring out at the night. When he would awake, that feeling would be eating at him. It was trying to tell him something. Something about Riddle? He knew he had to stay on guard around the doctor. There was something off about him.

Harry trembled. There was no cold to induce it; he felt insecure. Lost. Overwhelmed by everything that was going on. The situation was gradually getting more and more out of his control. He was becoming helpless in the face of it all, and he hated that feeling. Everything around him was slowly beginning to take on an unreal-like quality. He felt like he was forgetting things about his childhood. There was a place in his heart that felt like it had been sloppily re-patched and was coming apart at the seams.

_'Ron...'_

It was as if by needing Ron so badly, Harry had brought him to life on the street. Ron was walking towards him, hands shoved in his pockets. He gathered Harry in his arms as soon as he reached the porch. And suddenly, Harry's world was fine. He buried his face in the crook of the warm neck. There were no words needed. Ron knew that Harry needed him, he could feel it pulling at him from the other boy. He was there for his Harry.

They moved back into the cool interior of the house. Quiet, as not to wake the other four Potters who were still tucked away in their beds, the two walked up the stairs. Harry was clinging to Ron's hand. He needed all of the contact he could get with Ron. He needed that feeling of calm Ron inspired in him. Harry needed to be grounded, as only Ron could do.

Sitting on the bed, Harry crawled into Ron's arms again. The hands running over his back lulled him. Everything else was gone. It was all meaningless in the face of the clawing, desperate insistance builiding inside his chest. It caused him to cling even harder to Ron. Harry knew by the way Ron was kissing his shoulder he was feeling the same thing. He was attuned to Ron, mind, body and soul, and he knew Ron felt the pull of it too. Ron always knew. He was always there, always would be. He would always catch Harry if he fell, would always hear him, would always take away the pain.

"Ssh," Ron said. "It's all right... I'm here. Don't cry..."

He hadn't even realized that he was crying. But sure enough, as Ron ghosted a hand over his face, those were tears Ron wiped away. And they were quickly being replaced by more and more. He had been so absorbed in Ron that he hadn't noticed. He looked up at his long-time friend, and his heart swelled painfully in his chest. He felt so much for Ron. So much that it almost hurt. The painful look on Ron's face told him he wasn't the only one feeling that way.

"Ron..."

"I know, Harry. I know..." And he did. Ronald Weasley always knew.

Harry pushed Ron down onto his back, and stretched himself out ontop of him. He began kissing Ron. He poured everything into his kisses, as if his very life depended on him giving Ron all he had. His hot mouth worked its way down Ron's jaw, over his neck and paused to nip at his freckled collar bone before he pulled the shirt off. Ron lay beneath him, more than happy to provide Harry with this satisfaction, twining his hands in silky ebony hair. He moaned as Harry left a trail of wet kisses down his chest to one nipple. He squirmed as Harry's tongue flicked over the sensitive nub. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out when Harry latched on and began to suck. Yes, he was quite content to be Harry's pacifier.

He could feel tears on his stomach as Harry kissed and licked and bit it. He hurt inside to know that Harry was this upset. As Harry sat up and pulled his own shirt off, Ron saw the tears still pouring. Harry didn't seem to notice that he was still crying. Ron sat up then until he was level with the boy in his lap. He took Harry's glasses off with care and sat them on the bedside table. Harry watched him through all of this, his face still wet.

Ron took Harry's face into his hands. The two just stared at one another for the longest time in silent understanding. Then Ron leaned forward and began his loving caress of Harry's face with his lips, starting with his forehead. Harry's eyes slid closed. He moved over both cheeks, kissing away the tears, kissed his chin, then his ears, his closed eyelids, and then he pulled back. His breath caught as he took in the beautiful sight before him. He knew then that he would always love Harry James Potter, for so long as he may live and long, long afterwards.

"Harry," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I know, Ron..." Yes, Harry knew. He was feeling the exact same things Ron was.

Their lips barely touched in a kiss. Neither of them moved. There was absolutely no need to rush things between them. Finally, when Ron's tongue swept at his bottom lip, Harry opened his mouth to him. He made soft mewls of approval as Ron massaged his tongue, explored his mouth, licked his lips. He began kissing Ron back, slow and calm and so-very-sensual.

Ron stood, holding Harry up by his bum. He loosened his hold and Harry slowly slid down his slender frame. Ron swallowed a moan from the friction. His lips found Harry's again as he began removing Harry's pajama bottoms. He pushed them down over slender hips, down his thighs, then let them drop of their own accord past his knees. Boxers soon followed pants, leaving Harry exposed to Ron. His hands returned to Harry's hips, gripping them and massaging them with his thumbs. His whole mission tonight was to calm his lover down, and to comfort him. It was nearly accomplished: Harry was very nearly a puddle of calm goo on the floor.

Ron's jeans and boxers soon joined Harry's on the floor. Hot, naked flesh pressed together as Harry tried to get as close as he could to Ron. He was enveloped in loving arms, Ron trailing feathery strokes up and down his spine. He smiled as Ron lowered him onto the bed.

Harry gladly spread his legs so Ron could nestle between them. He tugged playfully at Ron's hair as they kissed again. The terrible, lost and panicked feeling that had gripped him was gone now, replaced by Ron, who was filling him full, slow and gentle and very much posessively. Harry had no other choice but to give himself fully to Ron, and did so quite willingly.

Ron began thrusting as soon as he was all of the way inside of Harry. The two boys moved in a slow tandem. Harry held Ron against his chest, afraid that if he let him go, this would all vanish. Ron's hands glided over his body, down his sides, over his knobbly knees. He tossed his head to the side as Ron grazed his prostate. He moaned deep into Ron's mouth. Harry wished that his parents and siblings weren't sleeping right down the hall. He wanted to cry out, moan, and tell Ron how good it was making him feel. He wanted to tell Ron how much he loved him. But Ron knew.

He could feel it building at the base of his spine. He could not hold on much longer, not with Ron moving on him like that. Harry's hands moved above his head, gripping the pillow. His head tossed from side to side. Ron ran his hands up Harry's arms to find the other boy's hands, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. With one final passionate kiss, Ron came in unison with Harry. They passed crying accolades back and forth between their joined mouths.

Harry forgot to breathe in the post-coital bliss. He felt Ron's forehead pressing against his and opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them. Ron was smiling down at him, his blue eyes so full of love and emotion. Harry smiled back.

"Stay with me? Just for an hour or two?"

"I will..."

"Ron, I love you."

"Love you too, Harry."

Calm and safe in Ron's arms, Harry fell asleep, content that Ron would stay with him and see him through the night. When he awoke, he wouldn't be screaming from dreams of Voldemort. He'd be smiling in memory of his redheaded love machine.

**_¥ £ ¥ £_**

"So," Hermione said, her eyes still on the notebook in her hands. "You've been having these dreams for a few months now, and they started going away when you and Ron... Yes, well, and then they started occuring again after you visited that doctor, who you think has something to do with them in the first place?"

Harry nodded. "I just feel this connection between it all. Like, a gut feeling."

Hermione, Harry and Ron sat outside the coffee shop on the small patio. Harry was on his lunch hour, and taking the time to fill his friends in on his dreams and the suspicions he had about them, his doctor, and the connection they had with him. Earlier in the year, he had taken Ron's advice and began to write down his dreams and the strange occurances during the hours he was awake in a notebook, which Hermione was now reading. She had noticed right off that nothing about the dreams ever changed.

"I just don't know, Harry," she said, moving on to the more recent entries, enteries about things from a different time he had seemed to start remembering. Flashes of green light, a cupboard and a portly man, and... empty. "This is all... I've never read about anything like this, Harry, honestly. And you say this Voldemort person, you've seen him? During the day when you're not asleep?"

"Once at the cook-out, and then when I was on my way out of my room. He was outside."

"And you passed out after seeing him?"

"Yeah. What do you make of it?"

She shook her head. "I really just don't know. Are you sure there isn't any chance you dreamed all of it? No, I'm not trying to call you crazy, Harry. I'm just trying to rule everything out. I'm not qualified for this, you know, even though it seems like a terribly interesting line of work." Harry gave her a sour look. "All right... Well..." She sighed, burying herself in the notebook again.

"I still say you write a book about this all, mate," Ron said. "Imagine, a lone boy having to save the world from a... wizard, did you say? People would eat that stuff up, they would! Bloody fascinating."

"Not if you're the one dreaming it, it's not," Harry said.

"Oh... right. Sorry..."

"Are you sure you're not just being... well, pig-headed about this doctor, Harry?" Hermione looked up at him cautiously. "I mean, you didn't want to go see him in the first place. Do you think all of these feelings about him making things worse are just because you _want _a reason to get out of these appointments?"

Harry glared at her. "So, you think I'm making this all up? That I just want attention or something? Think I made this scar myself because I had it in those dreams? Think I'm just seeing these things? Well, they're there, Hermione! I'm not imagining it! Something's going on, and it's making me..." He just couldn't bring himself to say the word. Because he wasn't... was he? "Look, I told you all this so you could help me. If you just want to pile it all up to be a figment of my deranged imagination, then you can forget I've said anything, all right? I don't need your help if you think I'm nuts."

"I don't think you're mental, Harry." Hermione looked as if she could not decide whether she wanted to cry or beat him around the head with something. "I never said that, and I never will. No matter what. I want to help you, but I'm not going to sit around and put up with that temper of your's. If you don't want to hear what I have to say, then I won't say anything else, and don't you come to me for help again! I've got to meet Ginny... I'll see you later..."

And with that, she gathered her things and went to her car. Harry glared as she drove away. "Some help she was... And she took my bloody notebook..."

Ron remained silent, and just continued to stare at his pasty. He wouldn't give Harry the back-up he sought, wouldn't even meet Harry's eyes.

"I've got to get back to work," Harry finally said, giving up on Ron joining in on a rousing round of Hermione bashing. "You going to wait around for me?"

"Nah," Ron said, still staring at his pasty. "I've got chores at home, and Mum's probably going to yell at Percy some more. Don't want to miss that."

Harry nodded. Ron had told him all about Percy divulging to the whole family, with an air of upmost importance, mind you, that Harry had been in to see the best head doctor in all of London. His subtle and well-placed jabs at Harry's sanity had earned him a good ear-boxing from Mrs. Weasley, a few rather nasty bruises from the twins when they managed to catch him alone that night, a black eye from Ron, and a busted nose, which had surprised the whole famly, for it had come from none other than Ginny. So, Ron bid Harry good-bye with a kiss and the promise to meet up later that day, leaving Harry to watch him go with a feeling of dread at the thought of his approaching appointment with Riddle.


	15. Tom Marvolo Riddle

_**Warnings: **Percy being "such a queen." (lmfao, that's how my lovely, neon, glowy and luminescent beta put it.)_

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**Chapter 15 - Tom Marvolo Riddle**

Harry and Riddle sat across from one another, Harry on the couch and Riddle in one of his chairs, just staring. Riddle had greeted him when he arrived, Harry had responded as politely as he felt necessary -- for there was really no reason to exchange pleasantries with a man who induced crazy dreams, but his parents had still been in the room at the moment and the last thing he needed was a lecture about manners -- and Harry had sat when invited to do so. Riddle had asked him what he wanted to talk about that day, and Harry had just stared. So, Riddle pulled up a chair in front of him, and stared. They didn't speak and they didn't move. They barely blinked. Riddle met Harry's hard, determined gaze, and Harry almost swore he saw a familiar spark of red flash through those cold, green eyes. But he just continued to stare.

How long they sat like that, Harry couldn't be sure. They just... stared. Nothing that interesting, just staring. Riddle moved first. He crossed one leg over the other, leaned back in his chair, and pulled his lips back in what Harry presumed was meant to be a smile. There was something cold about the gesture, something fake, like it was meant to lull him into a false sense of security, and Harry wasn't so sure that it wasn't supposed to. It was well-practiced and no doubt fatal to the unsuspecting. They would be suckered in immediately by those eyes, that smile, and the very essence that surrounded this man.

"What have you done since the last time we saw one another," he asked. Not once though his series of movements and words did he break eye contact.

"Met with some friends," Harry said. "Worked a little. Nothing else, I'm grounded."

"I see. Any particular reason that you're grounded?"

Harry debated on how to answer this. Was it really any of Riddle's business? No, no it wasn't. So, Harry shrugged. "Just because, I suppose."

"Because of your boyfriend, perhaps?"

"What makes you think I have a boyfriend," Harry asked. Great... Was Riddle a mindreader now?

Riddle just smiled. "His older brother is my secretary, as you know. We sometimes have lunch and talk. He mentioned it in passing. Why did you feel you need to keep that from me, Harry?"

"I didn't think it had anything to do with what we're meeting for," Harry said. He made a mental note to kick Percy one of these days. Nosy, good-for-nothing, gossipy...

"We're here to talk about you, Harry," Riddle said, interrupting Harry's train of thought. "Anything and everything that is bothering you, don't feel like you have to keep it from me. I'm here to help you."

Oh yes, Harry was sure he would like to know every little detail of his life. The question was, why? What was this doctor playing at? "Okay, doctor."

"So, your parents don't approve of your relationship with him?"

"They do," Harry said. "They just don't want me to lose a good friend, or have premartial sex. That deal."

Riddle nodded. For a minute or two, silence passed between them again. Harry looked out the window. He expected to see a large barn owl sweep by, the tabby cat sitting stiffly on a car somewhere, a little man in a huge top hat, or something. But everything outside looked as normal as it usually did. It was almost disappointing.

"What would you think if we had your boyfriend in for a visit one day, Harry," Riddle asked. Harry looked at him again. "Just to talk, mind you. I'd like to see this relationship for myself. But for now, just tell me about him. How long have you known him, where did you meet him, things like that."

For the next half hour, Harry relayed to Riddle the history between Ron and himself. The doctor listened, in what appeared to be only polite attention, but Harry was sure that this was more terribly interesting than he was letting on. Something in Harry felt queasy about giving out this much information, but he just couldn't stop himself. There was something about those eyes, so deep and penetrating, that made him want to tell the doctor everything. He had went into a nose dive and was playing more and more into the doctor's game.

"And has this new relationship with young Mr. Weasley affected your dreams any, Harry?"

"They... the nightmares stopped when he was around. Or if I'd been close to him that day. He... I don't know, I guess he just keeps me..."

"Grounded?"

"Yeah."

Silence beat a path through the room again. Riddle sat, studying him, watching him for any sort of reaction and Harry struggled desperately to remember where he knew this man from. It wasn't from... this time. Or even this world. He knew that much. Riddle was someone he knew in that other life, the magical one where he could feel that horrible emptiness.

"Now, Harry, down to business..." Harry gulped. "These dreams. Tell me about them."

"It's always dark," Harry said, thinking back to his dreams. "It's night, actually. And there's hundreds of people... and..." He paused to look up at Riddle again. "I'm not sure..."

Riddle surveyed him in silence. Once again, the doctor was sizing him up, judging Harry's actions and weighing his options, pondering his next move. Deciding on whether or not Harry was telling him the truth. Those green eyes bore as far as they could into Harry. And he sat on that couch, his gaze determined and as innocent as he could make it. Riddle finally nodded to him, and spared a little smile. Harry had gotten by on that lie... for now.

"That's all right, Harry," Riddle said. "We don't want to push the matter. Perhaps you'll remember them soon."

"I guess," Harry said, looking Riddle right in the eye. There it was again. That little spark of red that made Harry's stomach flip in recgonition. If only he could remember... He needed to remember...

"I think we can wrap up a bit early today, Harry, if that's fine with you."

"That's fine with me."

"All right then." Riddle smiled at him again, standing to show Harry to the door. "Same time in two weeks, then. Try your best to remember anything you can, Harry. Make notes of them if you can."

"Okay," Harry said, not so much lying. He would get his notebook back from Hermione, and he would make notes. Notes that Riddle would never, ever see.

He let Riddle open the door for him, and headed out. Percy was at his desk, on the phone, and pretended not to pay Harry any attention. Harry knew, though, that the redhead was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes, he loathed Percy Ignatius (Harry spared a snicker, wondering what had been going through Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's minds when they picked that name) Weasley. Those times mostly consisted of his visits to Riddle's office where he was recieved by this boy whom he had known since childhood with a look one might give gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe and no recgonition whatsoever, and it was then that Harry wanted nothing more than to punch Percy in the forehead.

Something halted Harry in the threshold seperating Riddle's office from the reception room. He turned at this impulse to face the doctor, who was seating himself behind his desk to enjoy a cup of tea. Harry wasn't sure why he had to ask the question, he was only sure that he had to ask it.

"Doctor..."

"Yes, Harry," Riddle asked, looking up at him.

"Can I ask... Well, if it's not too much trouble, that is. What's your middle name?"

"Marvolo," Riddle said. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. May I ask about your concern, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Just wondering."

He headed out of the office and to the elevator, ignoring Perfect Percy, and making a mental note to write down that bit of information when he got his notebook back from Hermione. It was somehow important.


	16. More and More

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_**Warnings:** none_

**Chapter 16 - More and More**

"So, the mighty git Percy told me that the doctor wants me to come in one time with you," Ron said. "Any idea why?"

They were on the Potters' front porch, lounging in the swing as Ron pushed it with one foot, talking about Harry's latest session with Riddle. Lily had brought them lemonade and little snack cakes, reminding Harry of hot afternoons spent playing in the front yard with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the other Weasley boys, then left them to their own. Harry leaned his head down onto Ron's shoulder. For at least a few moments, he would escape the crazy mess his life was becoming. He smiled as Ron wrapped his arms around him.

"Just said he wanted to talk to you. I guess he wants to see how you help me with these dreams."

"Yeah, help." Ron kissed the top of Harry's head. "If I'm such a great help, then why have you been having them more and more lately? And you're starting to see that... Lord Voldemort person again, aren't you?"

Harry stopped smiling. Yes, he had seen Lord Voldemort again. But he didn't want to talk about that, not when he could forget it all in Ron's arms. "Yeah." Maybe Ron would just drop the subject.

"Have you told the doctor about it?" Nope, he wouldn't be that lucky.

"Let's talk about something else..."

"That's what you're seeing him for, Harry. That's why your parents are sending you."

"Ron, please..."

"Harry... do they have medication for that...? What you're going through, I mean?"

He sat up and turned to Ron. For a moment, he said nothing. He just looked into Ron's eyes, hard and determined and trying his best to make Ron back down. But Ron wasn't backing down. He returned Harry's gaze, just as hard and determined. He wouldn't back down, not where Harry was concerned. "Are you saying I need medication, Ron? Are you saying I'm that crazy?"

"Look, mate. I'm not saying you're crazy. And I'm not saying that you need medication..."

"Yet," Harry interjected.

Ron kept talking. He didn't deny Harry's statement, which pricked at his temper. "I'm just saying that if things get really bad, I don't want to see you suffer, okay? I want everything done to help you, so you don't get upset or something, you know? I don't want to see you like that, Harry... I don't want you to suffer."

Harry glared at him. "I don't need medicine, Ron. I'm not that crazy. And what if they want to throw me in the loony bin? Huh? Are you going to just lead the bandwagon for that one too? You really think I am nuts, don't you?"

"Harry, just shut up," Ron said, giving him that determined look again. "You know good and well that's not what I'm trying to say. Stop being difficult."

"I'm not being difficult," Harry said. His voice was beginning to rise. "And don't tell me to shut up. You have no idea what it's like for me, Ron, to be seeing things that other people don't and having these whack-o dreams and passing out all over the place! ... I think I really am going nuts, Ron..."

He wasn't mad anymore. The all-too-familiar panicked feeling had began welling up in Harry. Soon, he was pulled tight against Ron's chest, and Ron was stroking his back and whispering comforts into his hair. It took longer than usual for Ron to calm him down, and he was left with a slight annoyed feeling that was all for Ron. He had been feeling that more and more lately.

_**¥ £ ¥ £**_

Harry stood outside the Granger house, waiting impaitently for Hermione to answer the door. He knew she was home; not only was her car in the drive, but he could hear her stereo on upstairs and her moving around inside. Her parents were out of town for some sort of seminar, or whatever it was that Ron had said. Harry and Hermione had not spoken since the incident four dacys ago at the coffee house. She hadn't called him afterall. He felt like she was the one who should be apologizing, and she hadn't, so Harry wasn't privvy to Hermione's life, except for the tidbits Ron gave him. Not like he really cared, though. If she wanted to be like that, then fine. He would just get his notebook she had taken and be about his way until she was ready to apologize to him. Honestly, how long did it take to answer the door?

Finally, it opened and Hermione appeared. Her normally bushy hair stuck out all hither-tither, her shirt was sloppily buttoned, and she was flushed and panting, flooded with the smell of vanilla, sweat, and something Harry couldn't quite place but made his stomach a little queasy. She frowned when she saw it was Harry standing on her doorstep. He returned the frown. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to be there with this disshelved girl.

"Harry, I..."

He cut her off before she could start in on him. "I just came for my notebook. I've got to get to work."

She sighed again and looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to say something more to Harry. Deciding against it, she sighed again. Harry felt satisfied that his most disconcerning look seemed to have put off Miss Granger.

"Wait here," she instructed. The door was closed again, leaving Harry to wait out in the hot sun.

It seemed like forever Hermione was gone, Harry heard the stereo turn off, and he could hear the sounds of voices and someone moving around upstairs through Hermione's cracked bedroom window. He tapped his foot impaitently. Hermione said a few more words to whoever was in her room and then came running back down the stairs. She opened the door a moment later, now clutching the black notebook.

"Harry, these dreams..." She was looking a little upset now. "Have you told your doctor about them?"

"I don't have time to sit around and discuss my hallucinations with you, Hermione. I'm going to be late for work. My notebook, please?"

She gave him one of her more stern looks, one that was usually resevered for Ron when he fell asleep in class during an important lecture, and still held tight to the notebook. "Harry, please. Have you talked to Riddle about them?"

"No, Herimone, all right!" He was shocked when she sighed in relief. "Why?"

"Something seems off about him, Harry... I don't know what it is, call it feminine intuition, but I don't trust him, no matter how qualified he may be" She handed him the notebook. "I realize I don't have the proper knowledge to help you with this, Harry, but I made copies of those notes and I've been puzzling over them every day since you handed me that notebook. There's just something about it... I don't know, but I intend to find out. As absurd as it sounds -- and yes, it sounds very absurd, but it's the only answer I've been able to come up with -- I think Riddle may have something to do with all of this. Stop smiling like that, Harry, because I'm not saying this isn't all something you invented to get out of session."

He glared at her again. Just when she had began to redeem herself, and Harry had been so sure that an apology was on the tip of her tongue, she turned back to her previous stand. Once again, he was making things up. "Great. Thanks for having such faith in me, Hermione, really."

"Harry, stop that right now." She stomped her foot. "I'm going to look into it and --"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Harry turned his back on her and started walking off. He had to get to work, which was only slightly better than listening to Hermione tell him he was making this whole thing up. He knew he wasn't. He knew that it was all real... and not just in his mind. He was sure of that.

So, he ignored her when she yelled after him to come back. He turned a deaf ear to her. Let her stand there on her front porch, looking and smelling like sex. Harry wasn't going to stay around and listen to her tell him, albeit in a nice way, that he was insane. His parents payed Riddle 200 dollars an hour for that. Hermione Granger was his friend, not his psychatraist, and he had been crazy for asking her help on this matter.

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**_Author's Response_**

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_**Marauder Number 5:** Ooh! Yay, you've returned! billy madison dance Computers can suck like that... Or they can be useful. It all depends on the computer. I have a good one and a slow one I want to chuck out the window. But I love it too much... and it's got too much of my stuff on it. Heehee, sorry this isn't more to your tastes, but I'm glad you're enjoying it anyway. Honey, you know I'm a Sirius x Remus shipper all the way. That's my favorite couple of all time. They're so yummy together, there's just no way I wouldn't pull for them 100. I swear, I need a button or something. Heehee! Nice to hear from you again! I hope you continue to enjoy._

_**emurez:** Wee! I'm keeping true to my reputation, then?_

_**willow:** Ack! Don't fall! Well, you see, the reason that people aren't reviewing is because the aspect ratio of the words and phrases in this story, and the quotient of the dividens of the title and chapters... Yeah, I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine, but that's okay. This story is also up on and I've got 53 reviews there. And that sounded really vain and stuff. I don't really care about reviews as long as people are enjoying the story and I'm satisfied with it. And I pretty much am. But at least you're reviewing! Thanks for that, by the way._


	17. Draco Malfoy

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_**Warnings: **none._

**Chapter 17 - Draco Malfoy**

Harry walked into the coffee shop, still raging in his mind about Hermione and her nerve. Where exactly did she get off? She had said it herself -- she wasn't qualified to tell him what was wrong, and yet, she thought she knew everything. That was just like little miss Know-It-All Granger. She was right and to hell with everyone else's opinion. Well, for her information, he wasn't making up a thing, and she could just bugger off.

"If I'm not mistaken, Potter, you're ten minutes late."

"Stuff it, Flint. It's not the day."

But in mid-motion of pulling up the counter piece to get to the back, Harry paused. That smug drawl hadn't been the jittery, crack-happy voice of Marcus Flint. He looked up at Remus, who was making a coffee at the newly repaired machine. It couldn't be... Remus couldn't be that mean, never. Surely not. Even as he turned to face the speaker, he knew that he wasn't imagining it.

Draco Malfoy stood at the cash register, smirking at Harry, dressed in the green shirt and apron and khaki pants Remus required as uniform, a name tag sporting his ridiclous first name pinned to the apron on his chest. If Harry had thought nothing could be worse than Marcus Flint, Crackwhore Extroidinaire, he was damn wrong. Draco Malfoy, the Great Bloody Smug Ferret and Mini-Lucius, was just as bad, if not far worse. What in the hell had gotten into Remus? Aside from Sirius... Harry made a mental note to wash his brain out when he got home. Mental images of Remus and Sirius weren't good for Harry.

"What's he doing here," Harry near-yelled at Remus, who just turned those deep, paitent amber eyes on him. He already knew the answer, but hoped against hope that he was wrong. He just couldn't be that unlucky.

"He works here, Harry. You're manager now. Marcus is still in the hospital after that coffee machine incident, and then after that, he's going to jail. The doctors found cocaine in his system. You can't run the shop by yourself, Harry, and I can't always be around."

"But... but... Malfoy, Remus! Wasn't there anyone else! Anyone who isn't a foul, loathesome, evil little cockaroach?"

Remus gave Harry a look that clearly said 'There was nothing I could do.' Harry sighed. Obviously, there had been worse than Malfoy that applied for the job. Personally, Harry would have picked Norman Bates over Malfoy, but it was Remus's shop, not his. He needed the money, and the place had actually started growing on him, so he couldn't quit. Maybe Malfoy would get bored with work, since his almighty popmous highness could get all the money he wanted from daddy dearest, and he would quit. Hopefully, he would be rid of both Captain Peroxide and Prison Bitch Flint. Could he really be that lucky? Well, maybe. If he hired a few hitmen, and bought a giant vat of molten cheese, perferrably swiss, and a few peppermint sticks, just for kicks... So, not quite resigining himself to his fate of working alongside Draco Malfoy to provide the people of London with caffine-induced buzzes, Harry went behind the counter to clock in.

"Now that we have that little mess cleared up," Remus said, laying some money by the coffee machine and head around the counter, "I've got to get home and pay some bills. I trust that there won't be any promblems."

Draco and Harry agreed, though a bit grudgingly and Harry was sure Draco's fingers were crossed behind his back. Away Remus went, leaving the two boys alone in his precious shop. Draco turned that ever-smug smirk on Harry, who glared back. It was going to be a long night. Harry just knew it.

He couldn't have been more right. Draco had taken over the register, which Harry had always presided over. He flaunted his good looks and poured on the charm, and sold so much coffee and sweets that Harry knew Remus would keep him on. He flirted and smirked in his sexy way and nearly filled the tip jar all on his own. Those confident, smug and handsome smiles he shot Harry made him want to cram the damn jar down his throat.

His first day as manager was totally and completely ruined by Draco's ferret-faced presence. Harry almost felt like he would have preferred Marcus and his roaming hands to Draco's cool and in-control demeanor. He had this job, and what made it worse was that he _knew_ he had it. Just the way he looked at Harry said it all.

Draco not only knew how to earn his keep, so to say, he also knew his way around the shop with great ease, a feat that had taken Harry nearly a week to learn. All of it made Harry sick. No, _Draco Malfoy_ made Harry sick. And he was likely to slam the blonde's fingers in the register drawer if he didn't stop smirking at him like that.

Closing time at last and Harry was without a doubt ready to leave. As fast as he could, he took inventory, cleared the register and began stacking chairs, while Draco sat on the counter and counted their tip swag.

"Mind helping me," Harry growled. "We'll get out of here faster if you do, you know."

"I think we may have raked in today, Potter."

"Oh really? That's nice." Harry didn't care. He, more likely than not, wouldn't see any of it. Draco, flirt whore that he was, had filled the jar on his own, afterall. And what were the chances Malfoy would share anything with him? Malfoy had hated him since the blonde's arrival in the first grade where Harry had refused his friendship and his cookies. Draco had been an arrogant prick even then, and Harry had wanted to punch him in the forehead even then (which he had done once, if he wasn't mistaken), and Harry had hated oatmeal raisin cookies even then. Draco was, and had always been, most proud and had held a grudge against Harry ever since. Harry wondered if Draco even remember why they were bitter enemies.

Draco slid, with a fluid grace Harry could never hope to attain, down from the counter to stand in front of it, flashing that smirk at Harry again. He was beginning to despise that smirk even more, if that was possible. He just stared at Harry a moment across the space that seperated them, then he smirked again and headed out the door, leaving Harry to close up by himself.

"Lousy, good-for-nothing, evil little ferret," Harry mummbled as he began stacking the remaining chairs. A few swear words added spice to his complaining of Malfoy.

Harry paused in putting up the chairs to stretch, then groaned. He still had half the room to go. If only somehow, it would do itself. But Harry knew things didn't work that way. He went to the back to grab his wallet and change into the clothes he had in his locker. It had been a long day for Harry. All the serving customers and glaring in a hateful way at Draco. That can really take it out of a person.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it into the locker. Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Lately, he had started to grow more and more pale. He needed to get to the gym or something. He was in need of some exercise before he lost what muscle he had. Sighing, he pulled on his t-shirt. There were chairs waiting for him. So, after closing and locking his locker, Harry headed out into the shop again.

He stopped short, though, when he got in. When he had went into the back, the majority of the chairs had been still on the floor. Now, they were all neatly put on the tables, and, what was more, the trash was already out by the corner for pick-up, the counter was wiped down, and the register was locked down for the night. Harry was in shock. Surely... surely it hadn't all done itself. He shook his head. No, that was ridiclious. Still... No. Draco must have come back and cleaned a little while he was dallying in the back.

The keys to the shop were laying under the counter where he always left them, and all he had left to do before he could leave for home was to lock the doors behind him. Harry leaned over the counter and groped around for them. Instead, his hand closed around something else. He pulled back to see what it was.

Draco had left the wad of tip money under the counter for Harry. He just couldn't believe it. Never had Malfoy done something more... un-Malfoyish. Well, he could either take it or do without, and it would go a long way toward the last bit of payment on his car. He pocketed the money, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door. There was really something strange about Malfoy lately. He had never had a job before to Harry's knowledge, and certainly not one in service. No, serving others was far under Draco Malfoy. And all day, he had made a point of looking at Harry when before Harry Potter was nothing more than an outlet for Draco's bullying. Now, the money...

That was it. The whole world was going bonkers, and Harry just had to be the only sane one left. Well... perhaps he had thought too soon, because that tabby cat was sitting across the street, watching him. There was no escaping it, really...

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**_Author's Response_**

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_**Marauder Number 5:** heehee, glad you enjoyed it! Also glad that you're loving it! I am too, heeheehee! (PS - it's quality, not quantity. )_

_**emurez:** Yesssssssss! As long as I'm keeping up my reputation! Ah... I see... Well... I'm gonna do it anyway! Yeah! Because that's just stupid, and if they want to delete this story/ban me over something like that, then whatever! If that should happen, then **you'll be able to find this story on adultfan. under the penname House On Fire.** Because I do what I want! Fight the man! Yeah! Okay, right... hmm... Anyway... Thanks for letting me know. Yay, you've got my back! But anyway, yeah, thanks for the reviews! You're such a sweetheart!_


	18. The Warm and Most Inviting House of

_**Warnings:** slight slash, nothing to worry about._

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**Chapter 18 - The Warm and Most Inviting House of Weasley**

The only upside that Harry could find to working with Draco at the coffee shop was that, added to the bonus he recieved for being manager, Harry was able to finally stroll down to that car lot and buy his beautiful black convertable with the grey interior. Draco, for some reason, never accepted any of the tips, though he was the one who earned it and Harry continued to offer it. Sometimes, Draco made no sense whatsoever. And usually, those times were when he was covering up an ulterior motive. Harry couldn't outright confront him about this -- well, he could, but Remus had specifically asked him to behave himself, and he had told him that he would -- so he would just have to wait until Malfoy's plan began to reveal itself. Harry hated waiting.

But as much as he hated waiting, and Draco, and Riddle, and being crazy, he loved his new car even more. In fact, the car was in the top five of the things he loved, just under Ron and his family and his friends, and above Chloe. The car was a great deal easier on the eyes than his sister, anyway. And it didn't sass him or insult him or tattle on him. Why couldn't his mother and father have gotten the car instead of Chloe? Harry just knew that his parents had bought her from a band of ill-tempered carnies. It would explain her freakish nature and her funky smell. Because she did smell. Really bad.

So, as he drove away, behind the wheel of his new car, he smiled. For today, at least, things were all flowers and bubbles and showtunes. He was happy, he was driving down the road with the wind in his hair, and the best part was, if he saw that stupid Lord Voldemort, he'd just run his spooky ass over. Well... if he could keep from passing out first. Ah, it was too good a day to worry about his mental problems.

Now. He was the happiest he had been in quite a while, he had his own car and the freedom to go anywhere he wanted, until six when he had to clock in at work and spend another glorious -- sarcasm had started becoming more and more a part of his life lately -- night with Malfoy. Where would he go?

The answer to that was easy. So easy, in fact, that when he stopped carrying on the witty banter in his head to avoid taking out a postbox, he was already turning down the street. All the way down at the end, and a little away from all the other houses, he pulled up to the curve and parked. The large, worn, and lived-in Weasley house stood before him, a friendly and warm reminder of a place that was always a haven to him.

The Warm and Most Inviting House of Weasley was not, by far, the most stately house on the block, nor was it the neatest or the best-kept. It needed a new coat of paint, the lawn had not been mowed that week, the roof needed a few new tiles here and there, and the garden was a little over-grown. The numbers were peeling off the postbox, the little shed's door was falling off, and the path steps were cracked or missing. The inside was a little cluttered and could have used a few repairs. All in all, the house was the best thing Harry had ever seen in his life. It had been his second home since childhood, and he had never known a house more full of love and warmth, aside from his home and that of Remus and Sirius. He had always preferred the Weasley house, though. There was just something so very... cozy and lived-in about the house he found absolutely intoxicating.

Harry avoided trodding on the chickens running around the yard as he made his way to the front door. Inside, Mrs. Weasley was yelling at one of the children. As he approached, her words became clearer and clearer. It was the typical weekend agrument with the twins, who visited every weekend, about their joke shop products finding their way into the house when Mrs. Weasley had expressed her concerns, quite loudly, about them replacing her good spatula with one that broke wind when used. Harry smiled. Whatever the circumstances of the outside world, life seemed to march on as usual at the Burrow. It was comforting, really.

His knock at the door was greeted with more audible shouts from Mrs. Weasley as she jerked the door open, and then promptly being enveloped in a vice-like, rose-and-ginger scented hug. He couldn't help but smile as Mrs. Weasley nearly crushed his ribs. Molly Weasley had always be a second mother to him, ever since he was a scrawny little child with an unruly mop of hair and had reminded her of a little puppy. Mrs. Weasley was always affectionate towards him, but today was an instance where she she went overboard with it. He guessed it was on account of him being all crazy and stuff.

"Harry, dear," she cried, holding his face in her hands and looking closely at him. "How are you feeling? Oh, that's a silly question, isn't it. Sit down, dear, and we'll get some breakfast in you. How's your mother? Well, I take it? That's good. Sit here, yes just there and -- FRED! GEORGE! I SAID NO MORE!"

Mrs. Weasley scowled at her twins as they came in the door, holding up an eyeball that was trying to crawl away on little tentacle-looking legs. She looked as if she would have their heads. But the twins, long-used to such looks, just flashed her identical cheeky smiles before settling on either side of Harry.

"Sorry, mum," Fred said. "Guess that one crawled away from us. We'll just have it back, then, shall we?"

"No." She tossed the eyeball out the window. "You two... honestly..." She set about dishing out Harry a hearty serving of beef stew.

"Hey, Harry," George said, smiling at him. Harry smiled back. He hadn't seen the twins in a month or so, and it seemed like they just kept getting more and more attractive. "Heard about your seeing things and stuff. From Percy, of course."

"Must be terrible for you," Fred said.

"But, no worries. We gave him a good thumping."

Harry smiled at them again. "It's... well, it is horrible. I guess you get used to it."

"Yeah. Ickle Ronnikins is upstairs. He'll be down soon," said Fred. "Congratulations about that, by the way. You're aware he's a git? Not of the Percy variety, mind, but still."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, still smiling. "Part of his appeal."

"Tuck in, Harry. Mum'll just have more on your plate in a minute."

So Harry sat at the table in the Burrow and managed to eat three bowlfuls of Mrs. Weasley's soup. He had gotten used to this routine. She simply would not stop feeding him until he thought he might pop. It was a wonder he wasn't as big as a house with as much as he visited the Weasleys.

Ron took his sweet-ass time coming downstairs, leaving him at the hilarious mercies of Fred and George. They entertained him with controban while Mrs. Weasley away, told him a few new jokes, about their flat, of a girl George had been seeing, and George even engaged him in some light flirting despite the aforementioned girlfriend. Ginny passed through on her way off somewhere, pausing long enough to give him a hug. Finally, Ron came down, yelling at Ginny for taking one of his shirts. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Harry in sight, and his face broke out into a wide grin. Harry smiled back, listening to Mrs. Weasley yelling at the twins, who were doing their impression of Harry and Ron.

"Oh, Harry," Fred cried, ignoring his mother and gathering his twin/Harry into his arms. "It's so good to see you!"

"Oh, Ron," George said, throwing his arms around Fred/Ron's neck. "It's been too long!"

"I love when you bat those eyes of yours at me like that, Harry..."

"You mean like this, Ron?" George batted his eyes ridicliously.

"Oh yes, Harry!"

"Take me now, Ron! Take me now and --"

"ENOUGH!" roared Mrs. Weasley. The twins and Harry sniggered, but Ron sat down with flaming ears.

"Sod off, you two," he said when Mrs. Weasley was busy again. The twins made kissy noises in answer. Ron rolled his eyes, then looked to Harry, who was smiling at him. He sighed. "I thought when they moved out I'd be free of this rot..."

"You'll never be free of us, baby brother," Fred informed him as he put an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm beginning to realize." Ron looked down at his soup glumly, his voice the epitome of woe. Depressed as he sounded, Harry knew that Ron wouldn't trade those two brothers for anything. Percy, however, was another matter.

And at that moment, Percy strolled down the stairs. He seemed to be enjoying his day off (for Riddle was the first day into his week-long vacation in the country, and would sadly be back in time for Harry's next appointment.) and looked very comfortable in his khakis and t-shirt. He stopped in the doorway as his eyes lit on Harry. The whole room paused as the two stared at one another. Then Percy turned up his nose, raised himself up so very regally, and sat down at the table as far away from Harry as he could get. He looked down his nose at the bowl his mother sat before him, then to Ron while he picked up his spoon.

"I had thought my advice to you yesterday would have made some semblence of an impact on you, Ronald," Percy said.

Ron's ears began to burn in anger. "And I thought you'd take a hint when I told you to shove off."

"In light of recent events, one should --"

"God, Perc," George shouted, laughing. "You're such a queen!"

"I beg your pardon!"

"Listen," Fred said, leaning over the table toward Percy. "You leave Ron alone and stop with your Harry-bashing or so help me, I'll --"

"That's quite enough," Molly interrupted, stomping her foot. "I will not have that at my table!"

"Fine," Percy said. With a last look at Harry and carrying himself high, Percy left the kitchen to the twins bursting out into a loud and enthuastic "God Save the Queen." Irritated though he was with the stuffiest of the Weasley children, Harry laughed. The twins had a way about them that kept you from being upset. Molly even waited a few moments before quieting them.

"So," Ron said when he was finished with his soup and the twins had distracted themselves with something. "What brings you around?"

"Bought my car," Harry said, smiling. Ron's face split into a grin.

"Wicked! Let's see it, then!" He jumped up and grabbed his coat. "Mum! I'm going for a ride with Harry! I'll be back later!"

Before Harry could follow Ron out the door, he was again pulled into the arms of Mrs. Weasley. He hugged her back with a smile. She was such a comfort to him, this woman who was so much like a mother hen and had such a temper to pair with her loving disposition.

She pulled away, and Harry could see she was fighting tears. It was starting to look like a losing battle. "You're such a sweet boy, Harry, dear," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "Percy... I'm sorry... and..." She brushed a stray lock of hair from his face and smiled through her tears. Her eyes said everything she couldn't find the words to say. He hugged her again. How he loved his second mother, Mrs. Wesley. She let him go with a final smile. He left her to her dishes.

Ron was outside, enthusing over his car. Harry stood back with a smile. Little things could excite Ron. A new car, a passing grade in chemistry, when Harry did that thing he liked with his tongue and...

"Amazing," Ron said. "It could use a bit of work, that's obvious, but you've got a fine little car here, mate. Great year, good deal for the miles on it."

"Want to see how it rides?"

Ron smiled at thim, that lop-sided, goofy grin Harry thought was so cute. Sliding across the hood to the passenger side in great Bo Duke fashion, Ron hopped in. Harry slid behind the wheel, started the car, and then they were off.

They cruised around for awhile, stopping for some fast food. It was a warm day; perfect for cruising with the top down. Finally, they parked in a secluded area on top of a hill, put up the top, and climbed into the backseat to watch the sunset. It was specatcular. Snuggled in Ron's arms and listening to his steady heartbeat, Harry was in awe of the beauty of it all.

"What was Percy talking about," Harry asked, breaking the spell the sun set had cast over the car.

"When?"

"That whole 'in light of recent events' rot. What happened?"

"Nothing." Harry could tell he was lying. He turned his head and looked up, deep into those blue eyes, as determined as he could. "Blimey, Harry, don't look at me like that... Bloody harsh... I was... I was elected into the student council, all right? Mum got the letter in the post two days ago. I feel like such a git. Like one of Hermione's lot, you know? But just not as smart."

Harry threw his arms around Ron, hugging him tight. "Ron! This is great! Your parents have got to be so proud."

"Yeah," said Ron, trying not to smile. "They gave me some money to put towards a car of my own."

Harry smiled at his boyfriend. He knew how much this meant to Ron. Ron, who was always just an extra in every scene, so to speak. Now, he was going to be thrust toward the front, as far as school was concerned, and Harry knew he was estatic inside about it. Harry leaned foward in his excitement for Ron, and planted his lips firmly against the other's.

When he pulled back, Ron was smiling at him. There was no mistaking that smile, or what it meant.

"What," Harry asked, smiling back.

"I think that maybe we should break this car in. Great big welcome, make it your's offically, that kind of deal."

Harry slid into Ron's lap. "Why, Mr. Weasley. That's a good idea. I wish I had thought of it myself."

"Well," Ron said, with a proud smile. "I am the one on the student council."

"Ah yes." Harry rocked his hips against Ron, producing a sensual little moan. "Then this should be congratulatory for you, also. You being such a good boy and all that."

Ron chuckled, smiling, very happy with himself. Harry was glad his lover had gotten elected. It was just the sort of thing that Ron needed, to push him out of the wings and onto the stage. It simply wasn't good for a person to be second to everyone in their lives. Harry leaned down and licked at Ron's bottom lip. He felt, more than heard, Ron groan in approval. Urged on, Harry took the little rose-petal pink lip into his mouth to roll it between his teeth. Ron was quickly becoming a hot and bothered squirming mess underneath him. He took Ron's face between his hands and slid his tongue into his sweet mouth.

His kisses were slow and exploring, as if he was kissing Ron for the first time. And truly, it was better than the first time he had kissed Ron. First kisses, though sweet and mostly memorable (and sometimes accompinied by halatosis, which made it memorable, but by a long shot not sweet), always have an awkward edge to them. One can never know what to expect when kissing someone else for the first time, which generally does add a sense of excitement to the whole lot. But this, Harry preferred. Now he knew exactly what Ron liked, how he liked it, and he was driving Ron mad with soft brushes of tongue against lips and teeth, fleeting caresses tongue against tongue, as if they were playing hide and seek.

He shivered when Ron clutched his hips and moaned when he ground up against him. His back arched as Ron did it again. There was something so... naughty about doing it in the back of his car that made Harry moan all the louder. In the backseat of his car, with the windows fogged up and the stereo playing some song so soft Harry could barely hear it, he felt like he was stuck in a whacked-out version of that famous scene from "Titanic." He almost laughed when he had the urge to smudge his hand all over one of the windows. He did giggle, though, when he pictured himself in a dress and wig, laying on a door in the middle of the ocean, crying to Ron to never let go.

"What?"

"Nothing, Ron. Nothing." Sometimes, Harry really worried about himself.

Ron looked at him a moment or two, maybe worrying about Harry too, then perhaps brushed it off as him hitting a tickle spot and moved to kissing his neck. As Ron found that one spot that was the most sensitive on his neck, Harry tossed his head back and to the side, and moaned, bucking against Ron's stomach. Two days without feeling Ron in him had been too long for Harry. It made him anxious and hasty. In his haste, he tried pulling Ron's pants down while still in his lap.

"Here," Ron said, starting to lift his hips up. "Sit up a bit. We'll be able to get at 'em better."

Harry did as Ron instructed. But, he sat up a little too far. His head cracked on one of the little bars the stretched canvas of the top was on. He cried out and swore, then laughed. For some reason, there was something funny about the whole thing. Ron brought his head back down. "Baby, are you okay!"

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Here, let me lie down."

Ron tried to manuver him down into the seat. Harry groped behind him for the console to help support him. The only thing they managed was dropping Harry in the floor when Harry's hands slipped from the console and he slipped out of Ron's hands. Harry looked up at Ron's shocked and apologetic face and laughed all the harder than he had been.

"God, Harry, are you okay?"

"We're a little clutzy today, aren't we?"

With a helping hand from Ron, Harry got back into the seat and laid down on his back. Ron settled between his legs, and with a smile, he began kissing Harry again. They ground against each other, and Harry finally managed to get Ron's pants down. His hands were moving down to the boxers when Ron again found that place on his neck and began sucking on it.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold feeling blossomed in his stomach. It spread through his body, to the very tips of his toes and fingers, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The warmth that Ron inspired in him had vanished completely. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew what was happening. But he opened his eyes anyway... and then started yelling.

There was Voldemort, staring into the car with that sick smile, his face almost pressed against the glass. Red eyes burned deep into him as he yelled and clutched at Ron. High-pitched laughter filled his ears, but it was as if Ron didn't hear it at all. He was holding Harry tight, yelling words Harry couldn't hear, looking so lost and confused and helpless. That pale face contorted into an evil expression and Harry could see the wand pointing at the glass.

"NOO!"

When Harry was aware of himself next, the dark was just starting to fade away. He was so damn cold, and he knew he had to be shaking. His vision returned and Ron was the first thing that he saw. His face was floating above Harry's, full of concern and that helpless look he got when those episodes happened. He couldn't feel anything even though he knew Ron was holding him tight. As soon as he got the feeling in his arms back, he wrapped his arms around Ron.

"Harry? Was it...?"

"Yeah."

They stayed like that for a moment, in the back of Harry's car with Ron laying on top of him and Harry clutching to Ron as if he was his life line. Harry wasn't so sure at that moment if Ron wasn't the only thing keeping him alive. He began to calm down. The shaking stopped. That familiar feeling of having the ground put back beneath his feet came to Harry.

"Harry..." Harry made a noise low in his throat to let Ron know he had heard him. "I know we've already talked about this... but..." He sighed, as if gathering all his nerve to say what he said next. Looking back, Harry would have to hand it to him for actually being able to say it. "Hon. Whatever it takes, pills or treatments or whatever... I think you should try it. This is getting out of control."

"What," Harry said, pushing him back to look at him. "Upset because you couldn't get your rocks off? Mad because I went all mental and you couldn't get a good fuck in?"

"Harry, stop talking to me like that. You know it isn't true."

"Ron, I expected you to understand! You, of all people, I didn't think would turn against me."

"I'm not turning against you, I --"

"Whatever, Ron. Have it your way, just like everyone else. I'm crazy, I need pills, I need to be in a padded room." His phone started beeping. The alarm he had set to remind him that he was late for work was going off. "I've got to get to work. I'll take you home."

Harry climbed out of the car. Ron moved after him, he was talking but Harry didn't hear his words. He slammed the door on Ron's protests. It absolutely made him sick. The one person who helped him most through the whole ordeal was now the one pushing the hardest for him to get onto medication. Ron had assured him on so many occasions that he didn't think Harry was a lunatic. And now, after months of it, he was trying to get Harry to do something about it. It just made him sick.

As soon as Ron got settled into the front seat, Harry sped off to the Burrow. Ron tried to get his opinion heard a few more times before he finally got the hint that Harry was blocking him out. The car ride was silent after that.

Ron left the car in a huff when they reached the Burrow. Harry didn't even wait around to see him to the door. Ronald Weasley could choke and be eaten by rabid rhodendron bushes for all he cared. He still had to deal with Malfoy at work.

* * *

**_Author's Response:_**

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_**emurez: **Eh, fanfiction has some stupid rules sometimes. If I hadn't been writing for them for years, I'd just stop. But it grows on you after awhile. Maybe they'll get over it or something. Who knows. And yes, yes he is going insane. Poor Harry... -snarfle-_

_**Marauder Number 5:** Yeah, Draco's all weird and stuff. But he's so delectable! Loves me some Draco. Let's just hope Harry won't go postal, huh? That'd be really bad. Flogging Molly is _very_ addictive. They're an awesome band with great songs, and a cute gituarist. A band isn't complete without a cute gituarist. Heeheehee, all right, I'll let you know if they do that. Sorry updates aren't more frequent here. I still love you guys! Promise!_


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